Francis Duggan Poems

Jack Iversen will never die his spirit will keep living
For he is one with a huge heart he has the gift of giving
If everybody were like him mankind would be united
And it would be a crime free Planet Earth and none would be exploited.
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Les Darcy was Australia's greatest boxer and though in his Homeland now his is a revered name
In his late teens he was seen as a draft dodger and back then that was seen as cause for shame
In World war 1 he did not enlist for service he stowed off to America instead
But within months the to be World Champion at twenty years from a poisoned tooth was dead.
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You see that fellow there with skin so brown
He is a stranger from some foreign town
His deep suntan tells he's from hot Country
From Spain or France or maybe Italy.
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Though living far from Ireland he's still Irish to the core
And he still talks of Kerry and Kenmare and Inchamore
And he derive much pleasure knocking Thatcher and the Queen
And he feels ever faithful to the wearers of the green.
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He dyes his hair a dark brown to hide the tell tale gray
And you might say proud Willie has known a better day
And though he's only forty two he's now well past his prime
And greater men by far than him have bowed to father time.
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I've read about the planned development on Wilsons Promontory and I am on the Greenies side
For if they cut away shrubs, trees and bushes the birds won't have places to hide
From the larger birds who would eat them the owls and hawks and birds of prey
It's a price for human development that small birds with their lives must pay.
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We hear a lot of late about Bill Clinton
Of his infedilities to Hilary his wife
And though scandals of the famous sell newspapers
There are far more important things in life.
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Michael Cleary was a man from Murphy's Terrace
The eldest one of a big family
The beloved son of Matt and Mrs Cleary
But he died in his prime and tragically.
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The darkening rain clouds gather across the morning sky
And skylark leaves the bracken and upwards as he fly
Soaring he keeps singing till in clouds he disappear
The bird is now invisible but his music I can hear.
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He stood by us when mum this life departed and we always had great respect for dad
To my siblings and I he was a role model the best role model that I've ever had
And if there's a heaven he is surely up there and I fancy that he often still looks down
On those green old fields he often used to work in at Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town.
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