Francis Duggan Poems

On a moonlit night she tells me she see
The tiny people dancing on the blackwood tree
And since she is a sane person a decade older than i
Why would she make up stories or why would she lie?
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If tomorrow I will not see the light of day
Get on with your own life I will be okay
And though success in my life I do not have to show
I've had a good innings as good innings go.
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Her shoulder length hair is as dark as the wing of a crow
The one from the place where the Bass waters flow
And her beautiful smile is a pleasure to see
You will not meet one less conceited or lovelier than she.
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In their National flag they do take such great pride
And they feel superior with god on their side
And their leader he tells them of us against they
But when they fight his war from them he's far away.
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This sunny Southern Land of the Dreamtime the home of wallaby and kangaroo
Of possum, koala and wombat, the pink and gray, the white and the black cockatoo,
The echidna known to some as the spiny anteater and the platypus strange creatures these two
The dingos the wild red dogs of the Outback in small packs their prey they pursue.
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Whoever made such a statement only the good die young
Only the good are remembered and their praises will be sung
Still only the living are important and advice here for every ageing woman and man
Do not regret that you had not died young you live for as long as you can.
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'Tis been a while since he married Julia Mary Brosnan over thirty Summers ago
Though his children are in their late twenties or early thirties them I cannot profess that I know
John Joe Sullivan or the Yank as some called him since he lived for awhile in the U S of A
He is gone from his old home in Coolinarne and with the dead of Millstreet he now lay.
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Never more in the Bush Bar we'll see Denny Murphy enjoying his saturday evening till late
A clever and a well travelled fellow to many he was a good mate
And Shanaknuck for his passing the poorer his equals not seen every day
He is now with the departed of Millstreet and his bones at rest forever lay.
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We hear of the sisterhood and brotherhood amongst the Human Family
But each of us are on our own or so 'twould seem to me
Even the most generous of people are self centred the main emphasis is on I
But all of our lives are not dissimilar we breathe, sleep, drink, eat, work and live and die.
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O'er the quiet pool where the moorhen dwell the shades of night are falling
And in the field beside the hill the hunting fox is calling
On bare branches new leaves begin to bud on trees bare since December
The Seasons come and the Seasons go but the past I still remember.
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