Francis Duggan Poems

The dying bird with an injured wing unable for to fly
Will crawl into a hedgerow and hide away to die
Away even from his own kind to have a peaceful end
It's tiny body under cover to decay in sun and rain and wind.
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Good memories remain with me and good memories never die
Of Summer days on uncle Dan's and aunty Mary's farm in green old Lisnaboy
Above the rushy meadow the lark carolled in the sky
And the new mown hay it scented sweetly in the sunshine of July.
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A car on the roadway a dog barking nearby,
The calmness is profound stars twinkle in the sky,
I feel a peace within on this cool July night
The air has a slight chill and the moon full and bright.
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When last I was in Buninyong 'twas cold enough to snow
And down through Warrenheip street the chilly winds did blow
But the familiar faces looked happy fit and well
As they drunk beer and swapped stories in the Bunny Crown Hotel.
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In cemeteries far north of here thousands of miles away
The heroes of my school going days in eternal rest now lay
They were not famous as fame goes their's was a local fame
But they felt proud of who they were and proud of their good name.
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We were in the same classroom in Millstreet Primary school
And Donal was a clever boy he never once sat on the dunce's stool
He still lives in the old home in Inchaleigh though I live far away
From Clara hill near Millstreet Town and the fields of Claraghatlea.
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Saltwater from her door a short walk away
The woman who lives down at Coronet Bay
A poet and singer songwriter and a lover of life
She once had a partner though she was not his wife.
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Of your God and your religion I did not ask to hear
That's something to you I've already made clear
The God that I worship is a beautiful she
The great Goddess of Nature will surely do me.
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The eggs and bacon on the frying pan are frying with a sizzle
And she looks out her window on the morn as the rain comes down in drizzle
A spinster in her late sixties alone though she doesn't feel lonely
There are many like her living on their own she is not the one and only.
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Out there in the moonlit paddock beneath a starry sky
I hear the red fox barking a wild and distinctive cry
Perhaps the creature is hungry or out searching for a mate
The Nature of survival is the lust to pro-create.
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