Francis Duggan Poems

The final old hero has faded away
His bones even beyond the state of decay
He gave rise to many a patriotic song
But to Mother Nature he finally belong.
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When he told me about his expensive new car
He wished me for to say to him how marvellous you are
But his praises I was not about for to sing
Since he boasted too much of a material thing.
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'Twould seem that we evolved from primates our ancestors swung from the trees
And our distant cousins are gorillas, orang utans and chimpanzees
Though with them we share little in common we have evolved quite differently
Humans have travelled to other planets and gone far in technology.
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A quiet man and to many a good friend
Today for the last time he passed through the West End
Where he and Bina had lived for many years
Those who knew him will farewell him with tears.
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Each of us are entitled to some fame
To know that those who know us at the mention of our name
Will say that he or she is good at what they do
In such way I'm no different to you.
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She sits in her room quite relaxed on her chair
With the sunlight on some of her face and brown hair
A woman in her late twenties or early thirties maybe
And she is one who looks so lovely to me.
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I am just your average rhymer and I pen doggerel
And I never did speak to Poesy though poets know her well
Once I did see her briefly that memory with me stay
The sunlit Summer meadow scented sweetly of new mown hay.
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James has returned to his old Hometown and gray now is his once dark hair
To end his life journey from where it started he has been in the big World out there
He has seen some strange things in his travels and to tell has strange stories more than a few
And that truth can be stranger than fiction so happens to only be true.
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She cradles her baby in her arms I notice her rather large hands
She belongs to a nomadic race who wander through European Lands
A race who have known oppression and as fringe dwellers they remain
But from the beautiful music and culture of the Rom such marvellous insights we gain.
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Give credit where credit is due seems a fair thing to say
And fair dues to Joyce Hemsley on her Honorary Degree she did it the hard way
By writing four thousand poems in a decade four hundred poems a year
Of such a rare achievement we do not often hear.
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