Francis Duggan Poems

The rain falling in a light drizzle it is not a very nice day
Behind the gray clouds of the dull sky the sun it is hidden away
The weather it can be quite changeable in April in the Southern Fall
Yet the farmers for rain had been hoping and for them light rain better than no rain at all
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The Romans name for it was Hibernia the Country now known as Ireland
Which translated means 'The Place Of Winter' which is not hard to understand
As the Romans went to there in Winter when frost and snow was on the ground
The Romans did not stay long in Ireland in history evidence of this to be found
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Though good health had not been with him for many a day
Such sad news out of Millstreet the great William O Leary has passed away
He left in all who knew him many a good memory
Of the man he once was in the what used to be
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Wherever my road in life to does lead me
A man from Duhallow is all i can be
The accent i was born into is with me to stay
For as long as i live till my last night and day
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As long as others you never harm in any way
Or untruthful things of them never do say
And help anyone you can of your help who is in need
Then for your own good Karma you do plant the good seed
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The praises of war heroes patriots may sing
But war in itself is a terrible thing
In war many innocent civilians badly injured or do die
To the glory in war this surely gives the lie
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The seemingly immortal words of Yeats poem 'A Terrible Beauty Is Born'
The classic poetry anthologies of the English speaking World does adorn
When he wrote of the Irish Martyrs of the Easter Rising of nineteen sixteen
And of the great beauty in the deaths of brave young men he had seen
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To most i am one who is completely wrong
When i say that to Nature and our Earth Mother we do belong
Many look at me as if my brains were clogged with sand
When i say we are mere mortals like all life forms of water and land
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Everywhere that i turn to look i do see
The beauty of Nature that is all around me
The light of the sun on the bushes and trees
And butterflies dancing in the evening breeze
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War history is written by winners this is how it seems to be
Though war winners quite often guilty of crimes against humanity
The true story of war the winners never do tell
Since the truth is a thing that would not serve them well
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