Francis Duggan Poems

When I think back in years to come my memory will dwell
On that saturday night in February at the Normandy Hotel
I'd been drinking all the evening and my thoughts were far away
In those fields by Clara mountain where I'd spent so many a day.
...

She told me she come from England from England far away
And that in Liverpool on Mersey side she spent her childhood days
And that she has spent most of her life here in Australia 'I'm quoting what she say'
And I'd like to get to know her better but then I never may.
...

She left this world in middle life just only thirty seven
And she went to a better land a land that we call heaven
Her children and her husband Matt her kith and kin heartbroken
But she is in a better world if that to them's a token.
...

On the fruit trees in the gardens the pinkish blossoms are in bloom
And by the roadside fences yellow flowers are on the broom
And the flute like notes of the magpie have such a melodious ring
In South Gippsland in september in the infancy of Spring.
...

When I want to see beauty I need not travel far
Not even for a short drive in a car
Outside my window on flowering callistemon tree
A natural thing of beauty there to see.
...

He hailed from Glenties County Donegal
And was hired out to farmer before he was thirteen
And later on he readily did recall
The hardships he endured and the things he'd seen.
...

When he and she one day will become migrants
And from their own Homelands live far away
The longing in them will be to return
And not as migrants to grow old and gray.
...

He fought greats like Fritzie Zivic, Marcel Cerdan and Sugar
Ray
A legend then and a legend still today
And few could hope to match it with him in his prime
...

Oh I must go home again while the fields are richest green
And the trout for fly are leaping from the dark pools of the stream
And the linnet's singing gaily midst the shrouded cypress screen
That stands beside the cottage of my true love Kathleen.
...

When I was a young fellow and I lived near Millstreet Town
I often heard the little wren in his cloak of darkish brown
In April in the hedgerows he carolled loud and long
And for such a tiny fellow he had a big bird song.
...