Francis Duggan Poems

Those with love and kindness are lucky indeed
And of more of their kind the Human World is in need
If everyone had love and kindness there would be harmony
And of terror, want and war the World would be free
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Tired of being talked back to by his teenage son and daughter and nagged at by his cranky wife
And tired overall of his miserable life
Only out of a sense of duty with the family he stay
Life for some is not easy as some like to say
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Narcissistic in his ways or so he does seem
He never will suffer of low self esteem
To sing his own praises he is never shy
That he is not very popular no need to wonder why
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There are so many people far worse off than i
As it will not be of thirst or of hunger i will die
Poverty exists in varying degrees
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
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With many middle aged to ageing people tracing of family history is the in thing
Suppose in a way that is quite natural to some form of authenticity we like for to cling
To as our sense of identity though the negative cynic in me
Says little advantage to you in knowing of your family tree
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In fancy i see those old green hills that in Summer and Autumn look brown
That overlook old coastal South Gippsland by the highway to Wonthaggi Town
Long before it was called South Gippsland this was an old countryside
On the beaches the bones of Australia's first people covered by the sands washed in by the tide
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One can say of him he's a hard one to scare
As he is one who has taken many a dare
But luck is on his side he is lucky indeed
As he drives on narrow country roads at far too fast a speed
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With a smaller ego some of us would be nicer people at least that's how to me it does seem
But some say those who do have a small ego do suffer of low self esteem
Many are into self promotion nowadays it does seem the in thing
It does seem for to be successful your own praises you have to sing
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That life with it's joys has it's sorrows does seem sad to say
All is quiet and dark where Margaret's last remains lay
In the bosom of Earth Mother to a natural decay
In the old Millstreet graveyard from here far away
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Of the praises of Country many love to sing
And the National flag to them a sacred thing
Whilst others like to boast of their culture and race
And others have in them a strong sense of place
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