Francis Duggan Poems

How can we respect those to whom we cannot relate
Yet let not our objects of lack of our respect become our objects of hate
They are entitled to their views as much as we are to ours
Though they may see us as the weeds that grow amongst the flowers
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I must tell you mister God will not save your Queen
For obviously her better days in life she has seen
And she is a mere mortal just like you and i
So sooner if not later she is going to die.
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We learn from our mistakes some are known to say
But for our every mistake there is some price to pay
And i must be slow witted for i can recall
That from my past mistakes I've not learned at all
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He fancies himself as one worthy of note
A sort of a Chaucer a very fine poet
Yet here by the mountains in his country Hometown
He is not seen as one worthy of renown
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From the dead sheep in the hot sun the stench of death rise
She has been the victim of female blow flies
The white maggots of their eggs eat the flesh of decay
The poor thing did die in the most painful way.
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Most politicians never mean what they say
About them they have an ambiguous way
To cling to power they will quite readily lie
Their three most important are me, myself and I
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He was arguably Australia's greatest jockey the marvellous Scobie Breasley he is dead
A champion horseman in England and Australia to be a champion jockey he was bred
A little man but big in all other ways so likeable and one without conceit
He made a huge impression on so many a nicer man 'tis said one could not wish to meet.
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The common bronzewing pigeon has a mournful coo
It sounds like a very soft repeated boo
Though far from endangered not seen everywhere
In parts of the countryside they are quite rare
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Though he'll never see his homeland shore again
The accent he brought with him with him remain
He has two grand-daughters the eldest twenty three
The old bloke from the coastal town of Italy,
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Do not say of him he's lucky for that would be a lie
Left on the roadway by a hit and run driver though he refused to die
Physically he is diminished he will never be the same
He walks with a visible limp condemned to live as lame.
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