Francis Duggan Poems

I always have loved Mother Nature ever since I was a young boy
And the beauty that is born of Nature is always a thing of great joy
The songs of the birds in the woodland the buzzings of the flies and the bees
The sound of the wind as it freshens soughing in the bushes and trees
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Is your life so boring that you must celebrate
The success of your hero a true sporting great
One who does not know you or you never may meet
And one with a big ego brought on by self conceit
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I've loved Mother Nature since I was a boy
And a walk in her World I always enjoy
The songs of her birds and buzzings of her bees
And the soughing of the wind in her bushes and trees
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The moorhen and black duck swim in a dark pool
Of the Merri river close to Warrnambool
And grey shrike thrush on blackwood tree whistle and sing
On the fifth of September in the early Spring
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He looks so proud with his younger woman walking hand in hand on the street
The macho bloke with the big ego the one known as Mr Conceit
In his mid to his latter fifties his muscles through his tightly fitting shirt bulging out
Broad shouldered he talks rather loudly like a rooster he does strut about.
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Is there more to life than to be born to die
And do those who believe in a hereafter believe in a lie?
For not one deceased person has come back to tell
Of a hereafter World or of heaven and hell
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Writers looked on as great by many do not seem great to me
Through different eyes we see things differently
A different meaning in each thing we see
Suppose we would be boring if on all things we did agree
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The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
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If to save yourself from serious injury or death to lie is not a shame
For that's self preservation and for that none you should blame
With someone pointing a loaded gun at you then your life you will save
Not to lie at such a time more suicidal than brave
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What I pen to paper may seem a bit rough
But I'm one addicted to penning of stuff
At this time of year one of Nature must sing
A beautiful time of year is early Spring
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