Francis Duggan Poems

He died a true hero but now that he is dead
He cannot hear the nice things of him said
Grieved by his friends, parents and his family
The friend, son and brother they will never more see
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She had turned seventy nine in July of last year
And today she was buried the lovely old dear
She was never a mother or never a wife
And she worked as a nursing sister all of her working life.
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Who can know or say what tomorrow will bring
For the uncertainty of life is an amazing thing
You may even have a big tattslotto win
For anything is possible if your luck is in
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The fields in their beautiful wildflowers of May
In green old Duhallow from here far away
And nesting birds sing in grove and on hedgerow
In Cullen where Araglen waters do flow
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Though others may think you have failed in the test
Take pride in the fact that you have done your best
If you had a choice to be best you would choose
But for every one winner many have to lose
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He is showing his years now in wrinkles and gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
But trying to chat up younger women is a thing he enjoy
And he has earned his nickname of The Randy Old Boy.
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On Summer evenings just before sundown
They used to meet on the hill overlooking the town
And as darkness did fall in the warm evening breeze
They often made love by the acacia trees
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Did Christ walk on water why bother ask me
Since I only believe what my own eyes do see
I am a non believer to a God I don't pray
It does take all kind as some are known to say
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Though she need not be short of a man in her life
The man that she loves will not make her his wife
She feels that she never may see him again
And perhaps as she now is till death she will remain.
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Even in big Cities they are known to thrive
It is by their cunning that foxes survive
Despite trapping and shootings and despite poison bait
On their extinction us humans cannot put a date
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