Francis Duggan Poems

The Boggeraghs are cloaked in the fogs rains of gray
It is cold, wet and windy in Duhallow and Sliabh Luachra today
A forecast high for the day of a chilly three degrees
And the cold winds are howling in the bare deciduous trees
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It was my love of adventure that brought me far south
Of the fields of the badger and the waterways of the brown trout
But i hoped to return for to grow old and gray
To the place where i first looked on the lamp of day
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I've never even been in a war zone though of the war dead the balladeers sing
But it isn't that hard to imagine that war must be a terrible thing
Those who start wars should lead their troops in battle but they leave others for them to fight
Such people not worthy of honour two wrongs never do make a right.
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Born and raised in Wonthaggi in the old coal mining Town
Jack is the son of a miner and he is one who knew renown
As East Wonthaggi's best and fairest footballer when he was in his glorious prime
Now he is in his late seventies and slowed by the passage of time.
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So many trees die of the drought there the Adelaide hills brown to gray
The farmers who live in such places they hardly can hope to make farming pay
A few small flocks of sheep and a few small herds of cattle hard hoofed mammals one might say rare
This Landscape is windswept and barren and this Landscape has always been bare.
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Even amongst brothers and sisters the difference in personalities is great
No two people are exactly similar the differences one can differentiate
Between siblings and parents there can be great rivalry that sometimes does grow into hate
Like the old adage goes you cannot choose your parents or siblings but you can choose who you want as your mate.
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Out there in Nature's wild garden I hear the freshening breeze
In the coolness of the evening soughing it's way through the trees
To the old woods and free of building places the Seasons they come and they go
So much to learn of Nature and so much I never will know
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Only the best come out winning victory is always so sweet
And it is hard to be gracious when you've swallowed the dregs of defeat
Like they say show us a very good loser and I'll show you one born to lose
Out of a place you are beaten and you will not make headline news.
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He is just a troubled poor fellow his life has been a continuous war
He fought in Vietnam in the late sixties from his home Suburb he travelled far
For to prove his manhood in battle where many of his comrades fell
He is one of the war forgotten his story someone ought to tell.
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All you need is love a song title of the Beatles though words are quite easily said
But saying All you need is love to your baker will not get you a loaf of his bread
Since he doesn't look at life in that way and his heart never rules his head
He'll say your money will buy a loaf from me on love people cannot be fed.
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