Francis Duggan Poems

Dan Leary was a legend of old Millstreet but he'll never more be seen in Millstreet Town
Or in the Townpark on a Summer's evening With a pair of greyhounds walking up and down
He was a sterling corner back in his prime a stalwart of Millstreet Gaelic Football
Fearless and hard but fair he never shirked a challenge as those who played against him do recall.
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It would be so nice to be a billionaire
With so many in need of help your money you could share
And so many in need of help in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry to be found everywhere
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The twittering song that the Goldfinch does sing
Awakens the memories of a far away Spring
When the hawthorns were in their white blooms of the May
And the wild born birds sung at the dawn of the day
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Not everyone can be famous though many yearn for fame
In a World where millions do die without a penny to their name
And that any hope of an egalatarian Human World cannot exist cannot be denied
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
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Though many may see it in a different way
'Tis destiny in our lives that does have the say
Our life journey our journey to destiny
To fame and to riches and to poverty.
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We do not need super powers or nuclear weapons in the World of today
Of a safer Planet to live in these are obstacles in the way
The only World war we do need is a war on poverty
With alms not military domination of the have nots of humanity
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The news it has travelled Worldwide
In Haiti's earthquake thousands are injured and have died
In Port au Prince great buildings razed to the ground
Where death and destruction exist suffering is to be found
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Some of the criminally inclined do seem friendly and warm
And when the need arises they can turn on the charm
Without resorting to violence their lives savings from people they steal
In their fraudulent scams that appear to be real
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Far north as the birds fly from here far away
It is cold and raining in Ireland today
And often noisy jackdaw in head feathers of gray
On the leafless birch tree has nothing to say
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He is Poemhunter's favourite son
And he feels he's God's own chosen one
In P H's forums every day
He surely does love to have his say.
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