Francis Duggan Poems

Back in the nineteen fifties his Homeland Hungary he was forced to flee
And he arrived in Melbourne Victoria as a young refugee
He married a good Aussie woman they have one lovely daughter Jo
He now is close to seventy and his hard life on him show.
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Born in the early nineteen twenties and in the mid nineteen eighties he passed away
A poetic legend in his lifetime and his legend lives today
Phillip Larkin the hero of many a Literary Don
The poet is at peace but his verse living on.
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He miss the surf beach of the town by the sea
Where he surfed with his mates when younger and carefree
Often tossed from his surfboard covered in the big wave
Nowadays he feels that he might not be so brave
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Ten years ago he was a hero a parade for him in the Town
But now he is seen as a has been they built him up and dragged him down
Where are they now when he most needs them him they no longer wish to know
He now is one of the forgotten their hero of a decade ago.
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What St Patrick is to Ireland St David is to Wales
Of his life some factual stories and of his life many tales
Are recorded in history in Pembrokeshire a Village in his name
And the Cathedral of St David in honour of his enduring fame.
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She became an octogenarian in March of this year
Belinda is eighty a lovely old dear
She plays bowls she's a member of the bowling club
And she even sometimes drops in for a beer at the pub.
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You still have the wanderlust in you for to see Lands you've not seen before
For places in the bigger World out there in miles distant From your home shore
To see the Pyramids of Egypt and visit Countries such as India or Pakistan
And other travel destinations in Asia Indonesia, China, Russia and Japan,
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He is always talking to himself old Jimmy some say he's not right in the head
His bungalow once well kept and clean looking from neglect looking more like a shed
He is in his mid to late eighties his wife she has been dead for years
He no longer goes to the Local he used to enjoy his few beers.
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'Tis not credit where credit is due
'Tis you'll praise me if I praise you
At The Mutual Admiration Club it is their way
To only nice things of each others say.
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'Tis Spring in the northern woodlands the chaffinch sings at dawn of day
And the hawthorns are heavily laden in their beautiful white flowers of May
And the scenery it is breath-taking when viewed from the higher ground
The green fields and the lush green valleys for acres and for miles around,
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