Francis Duggan Poems

Our nephew Thomas Duggan died at twenty three
And he is one I'll never meet or see
For he is one i never met before
And he is at rest now forever more
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In the hardest heart some seed of good you'll find
Though some than others more generous and kind
All babies they are born free of sin
Tis as we age that our human flaws set in
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Though as upstanding citizens respect they've not won
The mother loves and believes on her daughter and son
The mother to her children is their greatest friend
She will always be with them right up to the end
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I'll never be a prince of verse just your average man of rhyme
Addicted to the penning of doggerel though that is not a crime
In a World of many fine poets mine is an obscure name
And penning stuff for such as i is a hungry belly game
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A pleasant day in December of 25 degrees
And multicoloured butterflies flit around the flowering trees
And in the sunlit parkland the mudlark calls pee wee
And many in their beach wear in the city by the sea,
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Some people in business do not know how to play fair
One might say they like to get more than their share
Of the substantial profits of their business ventures they live by deceit
It does not seem to bother them when others they do cheat
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People of every Nation and colour and race
Are gathered together here in the one place
The World becoming more multicultural that's how twould appear
People from most parts of the World they live around here
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Old Clara in his hat of snow, the stream bank high is flowing
And across the wet and bare and deserted fields the cold north winds are blowing
Winter arrives in his cloak of gray on the first morning of December
And the redwings chirp on the bare hedgerows old memories i remember,
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He was the quiet achiever in his own quiet way
And quite generous and witty his friends of him do say
A good father to his son Michael and his daughter Ellen and a devoted husband to Lee his good wife
And he was one who made many friends on his journey through life.
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The first day of December so breezy and so bright
And butterflies are flitting in the beautiful sunlight
And the sweet song of the blackbird is floating in the breeze
And clusters of white blossoms on the maleluca trees,
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