Written On Hearing Of The Death Of Maurice O Connor Poem by Francis Duggan

I did know Maurice O Connor knew him since he was a boy
And I've been told that he has died which prompts me to ask why?
Why must a good fellow like him die and he yet not in his prime?
But I'm sure that question has been asked by others many a time.

Yes he died young so very young not much with twenty years
And he was worth the heartfelt grief that go with parting tears
And like rain calm storm the tears calm grief and ease the sense of pain
But for those who knew and loved him best the hurt will long remain.

He was a good and helpful sort in him there was no bad
And he died young so very young which makes it all more sad
And he had much to offer life so much he had to give
And he had many years of life in him so many years to live.

No more he'll walk Shannaknuck road on moonlit night in Spring
And hear the male snipe o'er the bog make strange sounds with his wings
No more he'll visit Shannaknuck and places Millstreet west
Where he spent all of his boyhood years and where he was loved best.

And though physically he has ceased to live in memory he lives on
And he will not have truly died till all of those who knew him have gone
And it will take many years from now and many a night and day
Before memories of Maurice will begin to fade away.