Francis Duggan Poems

No matter what others of you have to say
Your life is your own and you live it that way
Your praises them you don't need for to sing
You live your own life and you do your own thing
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In the high wood at Birdsland the green bellbirds sing
On a sunny day in Winter two weeks from the Spring
Like fairy bells ringing them one cannot mistake
They sing all day long till darkness from daybreak,
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Physically you feel quite healthy yet you wish that you were dead
Hang on to your life 'tis precious there are better times ahead
We all have our good and bad days that's life as some do say
Though things not going well now for you good times cannot be far away
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Of the highlights of his life to tell he has none
And he cannot boast of the honours he has won
And she is not extraordinary his ordinary wife
The ordinary man leads an ordinary life.
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The grey butcherbird with silvery beak
Pipes on a wattle tree in Ferny Creek
And kookaburra's voice is echoing shrill
On the gum trees on the wooded hill
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I've heard enough from you now please
Don't want to hear of your Uni degrees
Or of how wonderful you are
Or of the size of your new car,
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For thirty three years I've been addicted to rhyme
And I've been penning stuff since I was in my prime
The verses I write I could not hope to sell
Perhaps I am bound for the Poetasters hell.
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In their time the young poets they used to inspire
May they rest in peace the long dead Bards of the Shire
They too knew the glory they too had their day
But in Nature's dark bosom they forever lay.
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Life can be unfair for how can one explain
That somebody's loss can be someone else's gain
That some people do prosper from some else's financial pain
Has often happened before and will happen again
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In old Caherbarnagh you will not find gold
But wealthy people live there or so I've been told
Cash crops in the Fall they don't have for to reap
But the hill farmers there make lots of money in sheep
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