Francis Duggan Poems

He left his home near Kelso in Scotland in his twentieth year
And he travelled by ship to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere
And back in the eighteen eighties when he was in his prime
He became known throughout Australia as a gifted man of rhyme.
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It may effect your sense of self worth in some way
The negative things about you others say
It bothers you they have you in their 'gun'
Because you've never harmed anyone.
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Ricardo is a poet from Argentina
And at South American dancing few with him compare
And he has become known around South Gippsland
And sad to say men like him now are rare.
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The great poet from Gloucester Ivor Gurney he did not live for to be old and gray
He died aged forty seven in a Dartford mental hospital his memory prematurely in decay
He had fought in war knew a brief spell of glory but the literary biographers recall
That he was one who suffered for his genius and his life was sad and tragic overall.
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I had not seen John and Eileen for years
And saying goodbye brought me that close to tears
For those last goodbyes are always hard to say
And this time next week they will be far away
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From lamp of sun he hide himself away
And in timbered country rest during the day
And his camouflage so good 'twould seem that he
Is decaying wood that fork from branch of tree.
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His ancestors were the first Australians and they came here sixty thousand years ago
But Denis doesn't seek advantage of his heritage a more honourable person I have yet to know
No he is one who never seek advantage he is a moral man in every way
And if everybody were like Denis Kadman the World to live in would be quite okay.
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I know, I know the fields are lush and green
And in Summer an average temperature of nineteen
And there's no need to tell me for I know
That from October to March most days are cold enough to snow
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So Sarah it's your birthday twenty two
And a happy birthday red haired one to you
And may all of your dreams for future years come true
And may you achieve the goals that you pursue.
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The morning has a heavy winter chill
And dark rain clouds move over Clara hill
And the old man says that the rain will bucket down
As he stands holding his horse in the Square at Millstreet Town.
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