Francis Duggan Poems

We were having a nice party lots of happiness and cheer
Lots of food and stout and spirits many different brands of beer
We were feasting and making merry Christmas comes but once a
year
...

All day and night in their glass cage they slowly swim about
And they even seem to nose the glass as if to find a way out
Of the little water world they live in safe from all fish of prey
Their lives are short when compared to ours at least 'twould seem that way.
...

Another dead wombat lay on the road side
Under the wheels of a speeding car he must have died
Another dead wombat and too few who care
That these indigenous creatures already quite rare.
...

A tolerant society we've heard it all before
That fellow he is different he is from a distant shore
He never will be my friend so him i will ignore
I will only tolerate him just that and nothing more.
...

The woman who loved roses where might she be today?
'Twas said she left our valley for a land far away
At daybreak she hear the birds sing in the quiet of her bedroom
And out in her front garden the rose trees are in bloom.
...

His hair is long and straggly his pants torn at the knees
The old man in the parkland who keeps shouting at the trees
A homeless poor old fellow and of him it is said
That he should be in an asylum he is not right in the head
...

He goes around in tattered clothes and you often hear him swearing
And he hawks his throat and spits on ground and he is beyond caring
What others say or think of him or if they feel offended
By behaviour of old homeless man unkempt and broken winded.
...

He somehow might have come to terms with it
If Jane his wife had left him for a man
But since she left for the love of a woman
Makes it much harder to accept for Stan.
...

The things i loved and cherished fade from my memory
Those fields of Claraghatlea North that once were part of me
The hedgerows and the woodlets now seem so far away
The years take toll on everything and memory in decay.
...

There isn't any doggerel there this morning
The inspiration well in me is dry
I hear the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk
And silver gulls along the foreshore cry.
...