Francis Duggan Poems

I feel like a windblown feather in my life I have no say
Where I come from and where I go to destiny decide the way
What will happen come tomorrow what will the future hold for me?
Leave all that to fate and fortune and the thing called destiny.
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He was the poet who wrote the great poem 'Daisy' a thing of beauty that will never die
About his love for one he knew in childhood who near broke the heart of a sensitive teenage boy
And later on he wrote the 'Hound of Heaven' a poem in colleges that lives today
And one might say he truly lived his verses and nothing easy ever came his way.
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On the sunlit beaches at Bondi young and pretty girls are not rare
They swim in the low tide and frolic unburdened 'twould seem
by life's cares
Bronzed from the sun and the warm coastal breeze their likes one doesn't see everywhere
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He'll always be that little baby boy
She rocked to sleep to a soft lullaby
That little boy who passed on in his prime
And did not leave his end to father time.
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They lived in 'Tir na nog' many centuries ago
And they live on in myth and legend and little else we know
Of the tribe known as Fir Bolg which means 'belly man'
Perhaps from them the myth of the Leprechaun had it's source and began.
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Just a lonely old lady the years have made her gray
Her husband died of a heart attack five years ago last May
All of her true and dearest friends to the grim reaper have gone
And still the Seasons come and go and she keeps living on.
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In China they jail everyone who dare to speak their mind
And even in the so called Democratic Countries you will find
That many innocents have been jailed and even executed wrongfully
So much for human rights and liberty.
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Of Semaphore I have such pleasant memories and the mental pictures still remain with me
Where pelicans are resting on the wide beach and gulls flock in the parklands by the sea
And on the beach in the quiet of early morning people take their dogs out for a run
And magpie's song ring in the coastal suburb and the pee wees are piping in the sun.
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The high and narrow Loch road through the green undulating hills keep winding up and down
Through marvellous scenic countryside down towards Wonthaggi Town
And at every corner that you turn there's beauty for to see
Across the open country side that stretch down towards the sea.
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It's not like Christmas I knew years ago
The Irish Christmas that I used to know
When Caherbarnagh peaks are capped with snow
And cold winds from the mountains inland blow.
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