Francis Duggan Poems

Most Bikies they are good and decent people
Though a rowdy few do give all a dubious name
But such is the case with all groups of people
The sins of one bring to the many shame.
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You say about these people that they were born to lose
But you seem quite judgemental since you do not live in their shoes
Born in the leafy suburb of the hard life you do not know
And if empathy you do not have then such you cannot show
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The good old Powlett river so very old in time
Has been sketched by famous artists and has inspired the bards to rhyme
From the hills above Kilcunda it flows downland to the sea
Centuries before the first Australians came down to the South Country,
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Though you cannot tell to others of great things you have done
If you can live 'til the day you die without harming anyone
You are known to be kind to others and your higher self you do embrace
Then the World for you living in it is a much better place
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So many poor and downtrodden people in the bigger World out there
Where thousands each day become poorer for every new millionaire
Even in the World's wealthiest Cities the paupers and homeless not rare
The hard road through life may be daunting for those in the pit of despair.
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The Australian Federal Election is six weeks away
And campaigning politicians are begging for votes every day
Their desire for power is addictive 'twould seem
How far some do go for their own self esteem.
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What is patriotism you are asking me
Though with the answer I give you perhaps you may not agree
With what on patriotism I do have to say
You win some and lose some life can be that way,
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Another Season I've managed to survive
But I feel so happy just to be alive
The nesting wild birds in the park chirp and sing
On this warm and beautiful day in the Spring
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The white backed magpie he flutes on the black wattle tree
Where Nature's great beauty is all around me
And I know them by their song though them I cannot see
The black and white birds known to most as pee wee.
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The flute like song of the olive backed oriole I fancy I hear
On the tall gums of Sherbrooke in the Spring of the year
The cockatoos call and the nesting birds sing
Oh to be in the Yarra Ranges in the prime of the Spring
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