It Was Neilly Flynn Who Told Me Poem by Francis Duggan

It was Neilly Flynn who told me 'it's a hungry belly game'
There's no money in verse writing you may not even win fame
At that time I had ambition and I chose to disagree
But now I know how right he was when his words come back to me.

All my great dreams and ambitions have all perished in their shell
And I'm just a mere poetaster a writer of doggerel
And the poesy inspiration in me never took to flame
And after years and years of effort I am still an unknown name.

But I feel all's not been wasted I get off on doggerel rhyme
And the inspiration I need it can come at anytime
Even in the depths of Winter there is great beauty to see
When the wattle flowers bloom yellow on the lovely wattle tree.


Even in the depths of Winter there is beauty everywhere
When the magpie tunes his whistle in the frosty morning air
And in the sunshine of mid morning there is beauty in the sky
When a flock of red rosellas to the nearby woodland fly.

I feel inspiration coming and my thoughts go far away
And I stand in upland meadow on a bright morning in May
Listening to a skylark carolling high above the sunlit hill
And the little dipper singing on the alder by the rill.

I feel inspiration coming when brush wattlebird I hear
Territorial and aggressive as the days of Spring draw near
It's a time of inspiration, it's a time of love and joy
And the older heart feels younger as the the days of spring are nigh.

It was Neilly Flynn who told me 'it's a hungry belly game'
There's no money in verse writing you may not even win fame
At that time I had ambition and I chose to disagree
But now I know how right he was when his words come back to me.