Francis Duggan Poems

Why in the Human World there are winners and losers one must wonder why
And a fair go to some only seems to apply
Yes a fair go is something that does not apply to all
In a Human World where success to one can come at the expense of someone else's downfall
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Why many working class people vote into power as the Government leader a known multi millionaire
Someone with them who in common anything does not share
Is something beyond me for to understand
Suppose to some people large amounts of money means success and respect does command
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The one willing to help one of helping in need
For his or her future good karma is planting the seed
Though she or he may never become a hero or heroine of the town
Since most kind and compassionate people are strangers to renown
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It has been a while since i walked by Finnow
And in a rushy field heard the soft lowing of a cow
After sundown in the twilight of the day
In the prime of the Spring on an evening in May
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Because of us animals suffer the animals we kill for their meat
And on this i am as guilty as the butchers since the cooked flesh of slaughtered creatures i eat
The battery fowl raised in cages, the pigs born and raised in crates
The cattle fattened in crowded feedlots their meat is for our dinner plates
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You have many friends in the local pub
And you have many friends in the pitch and putt club
And as you become financially wealthier your friends in numbers do grow
You are a person that many of do wish to know
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Old Jimmy the Dibbler is a jolly bloke
He enjoys a good laugh and can tell a good joke
Single in his late seventies divorced from his wife
With a wealthy old fellow she lives the good life
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The saying of self praise is no praise remains as ever true
Leave it to others to praise you if praise is your due
Though self praise nowadays does seem the in thing
And so many only too willing their own praises to sing
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The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
But the blackbirds are singing in Yangery today
And sweet scent of grass freshly mowed for hay
Is wafting in the breeze blowing uphill from the bay
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The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
But the blackbirds are singing in Yangery today
And sweet scent of grass freshly mowed for hay
Is wafting in the breeze blowing uphill from the bay
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