Francis Duggan Poems

In your moments of reflection and moments of self doubt
Do you ever ask yourself what is life about
Your existence you feel to little does amount
And only those seen to be successful are the people who count.
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On going back in time 'tis many years ago
Since I last saw old Clara in his hat of snow
The old hill in Duhallow that ever looks down
On the fields of Millstreet and on Millstreet Town
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Let us hear it for old Clive
He is very much alive
He has courage on his side
Two years ago he almost died
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As we know wise people are rare
Of others feelings they are aware
But you will find ratbags everywhere
In the bigger World out there
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To Hell or to Connacht was Cromwells's war cry
To poor Irish tenant farmers his cruel words did apply
Cromwell was a war criminal the facts never lie
To Hell or to Connacht were his words or die.
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Don't care of your Nationality or colour whether you be black, white or brown
Or the place that you come from what city or town
Or the size of your house your swimming pool or car
I just want to know of the person you are.
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Ignore Government Spokespeople their success depends on the spreading of fear
And they only tell you what they want you to hear
To them to mislead is not to deceive
And a bigger fool you if them you believe
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Compassion for them the sheep farmers cannot show
They hate with a vengeance every silver back crow
Since of newly born lambs they do pluck out the eyes
Their hatred of them they don't try to disguise.
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The literary critics are well paid for others literary works to criticize
Though they themselves seldom do win a literary prize
And though as writers few critics ever do make the grade
At least for their criticisms they do get paid.
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On natural science or on horticulture or on ornithology
Or on botany or on environmental studies he did not have a degree
And though he died in a mental asylum one hundred and forty four years ago
He knew more about Nature than most today can claim to know
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