Patrick Next Door Poem by Francis Duggan

The wind blow up through Watt Street on the eve of Christmas
Day
And red haired Patrick next door knocked on our door to say
A merry Christmas to you and here's a small gift from Fleur and I
And perched upon his shoulder was Zed their little boy.

And Patrick he felt merry he's one who loves a beer
And he'll be celebrating the Christmas and the New Year
And on Christmas Day with all his mates by the smoky barbecue
He'll enjoy his food and drink his grog from ten till after two.

He may not be free of vices and he may like his grog
But he doesn't beat his family and he doesn't kick his dog
He's likeable and generous and in him nothing small
And many of those who seem rough around the edges are not that way at all.

Of Irish and German extraction O Halloran is his second name
But he has never been to the distant Lands from where his ancestors came
He is just a regular Aussie who likes a drink with his mates
And with them talk of Cricket and Aussie Rules football greats

A windy Christmas Eve in Wonthaggi and Patrick with Zed his little boy
Came to us with a present and to wish us Christmas joy
Full of the Christmas spirit he had a few drinks in
And to feel merry on Christmas Eve has never been a sin.