Francis Duggan Poems

I'm not interested in football or baseball or tennis or cricket or art
Or opera or modern poetry some call me a boring old fart
I'm just one of many poetasters a writer of doggerel rhyme
For me the fun is gone out of living I'm wearied by old father time.
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You will die when the reaper will come for you though others
on that have different to say
Such as when god says you've had your innings and to beg for his mercy to him they pray
I may be wrong and they may be right who knows for their guess is as good as mine
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The mighty power of Nature is beyond human control
And when Mother Nature gets angry of human lives she takes toll
The tsunamis or sea quake in South Asia left thousands of people dead
Of this most recent disaster so much written and said.
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I apologize but for what I do not know
And my standing with some 'twould seem at a low
'Twould seem I hurt their feelings with my pen
But in the game of life one has to lose to win.
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The Citizens band play the National Anthem at the front of the parade
And the returned soldiers march behind them in war their mark they had made
In a north eastern Country they had done their Nation proud
The National flags are waving and the cheering for them loud
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A so called sport of the upper class that inspired the bards to rhyme
Fox hunting is banned in Britain everything has it's time
For nothing last forever it had passed it's use by date
And in chasing down and killing a frightened creature what is to celebrate?
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Old lady luck's not on your side and things for you going wrong
And you feel weary in your heart you've battled for far too long
Up the steep hill of your hard life and your sense of despair
But tomorrow is another day and you should hang in there.
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The gray crow cawing on the birch tree at the dawning of the day
Where the Finnow through the green and rushy fields it slowly winds it's way
Towards Drishane to join with the Blackwater and into a bigger river grow
The river flows forever though the people come and go.
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Not seen as great or special or the leaders of our time
But to the people who love Nature i dedicate this rhyme
They dedicate their free time for the future of human kind
And in the person who loves Nature a great person you will find.
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Whilst his mate she sits on her eggs in her nest
I fancy I hear and I see him the sun on his red-breast
He singing upon the leafy silver birch tree
Proclaiming the borders of his territory.
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