Francis Duggan Poems

Distance to memory is not a barrier as the wise are known to say
The church bell at the West End i hear it toll today
For another one departed a heart forever still
On a farewell to the cemetery for to lay by Cashman's Hill
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Some of the young males in the pub like to crow
Of the women they have made love to they want others to know
On boasting in public of their virility they are not very wise
Since on doing so the reputation of local women they demoralize
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A little pride is useful for one it does seem
But not healthy for the mind when in the extreme
For a strong sense of pride in the words of the wise
To feelings of self conceit of has been known to give rise
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It is windy, cold and raining by the Boggeraghs today
In Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra from here far away
The sun is well hidden behind clouds of gray
And in the farmyard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
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The answer does seem beyond me to explain
Why somebody's loss becomes somebody else's gain
That human society is structured in this way
For the winners successes it is the losers who pay
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With some of your opinions i could never agree
When you say you cannot feel any sympathy for a refugee
Your idea of a fair go all does not include
Those most in need of helping you wish to exclude
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Big Luke he believes his own stories in his own mind he is in sporting renown
And he is worthy of the dubious title of the most self deluded man in the town
As a young man he was a track athlete though he never did win a race
In the low grade races he took part in he never once did run a place
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In a car accident John lost his two young daughters Lisa and Bella and Ann his lovely wife
He is one who knows of the hard knocks of life
Now in his early fifties he never married again
Yet of his sorrows in life he never does complain
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It is good to be healthy and feeling well and alive
In a World where many to twenty do not even survive
Though it is not always true the good only die young
In a World where the praises of aging celebrities by the gullible masses are sung
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Her hair was as dark as the wing of a crow
But as is said of age on beauty it does show
In her physical prime she was the Flower of Kirkstall
In the Koroit countryside then the fairest of all
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