Francis Duggan Poems

He was a poet of the people he lived the poems he did write
As a boy he worked for farmers from the dawn till dark of night
In The Children of the Dead End one of his novels he told of the hardships he had known
Before he became a famous writer and into manhood had grown.
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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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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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The children are playing football in the park off of the street
The joy in their laughter it does sound so sweet
'Tis true youth is such a marvellous thing
Like the flowers of the fields that bloom lovely in Spring.
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You say you wish you had a million dollars but if you had a million you might wish for two
For 'much wants more' that quote has much truth in it and applies to me as it applies to you
I've often dreamt of a big win in lotto though I've not been one of the lucky few
Who won their millions in a lotto ticket such dreams of course for many don't come true.
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Can Westmeath win next year's all Ireland senior hurling? unlikely most would say
Though I would love to see them win if only for Sean Fay
For he takes hurling seriously and he comes from Westmeath
And he feels disappointed each time that they get beat.
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When I was young I heard him speak in Millstreet
You might say then his better days were gone
But to the Millstreet Fianna Fail supporters
Their hero was the man known as Big Con.
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A pleasant day with a slight cooling breeze
And a forecast high of twenty five degrees
And blackbird pipe on a coastal ti tree
In Cape Paterson beside the Gippsland sea.
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The World's wealthiest human being and a multi billionaire
And he would be a great man if he would only share
A small fraction of his fortunes with the many in grave need
With the Planet's starving millions who hunger for a feed.
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The poor old bloke who searches through the trash bins for cans and for bottles to sell
Is as good as the highest achiever for he too has a story to tell
And maybe his story is better than many of those high on the social tree
For life to him has been a battle and he knows about poverty.
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