Francis Duggan Poems

At nightfall the birds known as tawny frogmouth come out in family groups of three or four
They do not have a song the only sounds they do make is a sort of a low pitched nasal snore
In the wooded parkland they fly from tree to tree in their search for tree insects and flies
And they return to roost on their roosting trees at the dawning just before sunrise,
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A warm day in Summer over thirty degrees
And I long for the coolness of a cool freshening breeze
And even warm in the shade out of the sunlight
A cold shower will feel nice followed by a few beers tonight.
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That we all have ambitions does apply to every woman and every man
But everything in life as we should know does not always go to plan
Eighty years of living is enough for anyone and though the soul lives on some say
The body it is quick to age and quicker to decay.
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I do not admire him but I pity his wife
She has such a lot to put up with in her life
Each evening he sits in the pub and he guzzles his beer
And talk to him is cheap but the liquor is dear.
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The woman he loves she will not be his wife
She left him for another he feels hard done by life
He sits on his back door step drinking a beer
And the best friend he has by him is sitting near.
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Where it hasn't rained for years
Famished people weep their tears
The sun baked earth is cracked and dry
And the sun burns in the sky.
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George the young man from England is homesick in Geelong
For the beautiful city of Birmingham the home of football and song
Six months ago he came to Australia for work and adventure but he grows more homesick as the days go by
He will return to old Birmingham where rain clouds often darken the sky.
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In the Land of the blind as the saying goes the one eyed fellow is the king
And we look to him as a hero and his praises we gladly sing
To him we surrendered our power in the first place and for that he repays us in fear
Of the treachery of our so called enemies from him is all that we do hear.
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The melaleucas are cloaked in their white flowers as if they are laden with snow
And the warm sun of December in the blue of the Summer sky glow
In Hawkesdale in the Southern Grampians it is such a beautiful day
If there is an Earthly Utopia from here it can't be far away.
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The shearers are having their breakup Christmas parties in the Southern Grampians pubs they celebrate
The end of a good shearing Season shearers from New Zealand and Interstate
In pub backyards sing around the barby they are full of warm Christmas cheer
The shearers work hard for a living and the shearers renowned drinkers of beer.
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