Mystery Man Poem by Francis Duggan

Where oh where is Mike McShane
From number nineteen Nut tree lane
Where oh where now can he be
That poor fellow from Nut tree? .

Some say he's in London Town
In a house of ill renown
Living in a sinful state
With a strumpet for bed mate.

Others say he turned to crime
And that he is serving time
Paying the price for robbery
In a penitentiary.

And others say and claim to know
That he died in New York's skid row
In the winter cold and wet
And that sleeping rough had caused his death.


And others say that the once poor boy
Is now a rich man living high
In the lap of luxury
In the heart of gay Paree.

Poor, poor Mike has seen it tough
He's known hard times and slept rough
Kicked out by his drunkard dad
Teenage years for him were sad.

And with his unchaste mother Ann
Living with another man
Mike was friendless and alone
Like stray dog without a home.

He left Nut tree ten years back
And went down to the railway track
With money he'd begged for his fare
And took a trip to god knows where? .

Is he a jail bird or is he poor
Sleeping rough or with a whore
Or is he resting peacefully
In some distant cemetery? .

Or is he a drunkard, down and out,
A loafer and a lay about,
Did he strike it rich or go to hell?
God alone can only tell.

And though some claim they do, there's none who know
To where he went ten years ago
And the whereabouts a mystery
Of hard reared fellow from Nut tree.

But one thing for certain on that day
Mike McShane went far away,
Far from Nut tree lane and woe,
Far away as he could go.