Francis Duggan Poems

My best years of penning stuff well may be gone
But I must be addictive as I keep penning on
Some friends even tell me you've said all you have to say
'Tis time you gave scribbling of doggerel away
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You well may pay homage to your queen and king
But 'tis not about royalty that I wish to sing
Or the president or the celebrity or the billionaire
I sing of the battlers of the big World out there.
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Kevin Andrews the Australian Minister for Immigration says African refugees don't adjust to life in this Land
That Australian ways and culture they do not understand
His excuse for accepting less of African refugees
Seems nothing but latent racism of varying degrees.
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It has been awhile since the last thylacine died in an Australian zoo
And centuries longer since Napoleon lost out at Waterloo
But these things now are of the past and the past is forever gone
And time for anyone does not wait and life goes on and on.
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The flute of the Aussie magpie is a pleasant thing to hear
On nights in late Winter and early Spring it echoes melodious and clear
A thing of natural beauty is always a thing of joy
I've been in love with Nature ever since I was a boy
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He does look rather surly and the years have left him gray
The man with bushy eyebrows to me never says good day
One I used to acknowledge in passing a friendly hi
But my greeting met with silence he never did reply.
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The stuff I pen to paper is stuff I cannot sell
The type that literary critics dismiss as doggerel
After many years of penning stuff I remain an unknown
Yet I never steal others ideas my verses are my own
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The Norfolk Pines of Warrnambool the pride of coastal trees
Their branches seem to dance about in the freshening evening breeze
They are quite unmistakeable in their foliage of dark green
And all around the big coastal Town in numbers they are seen
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Created out of pleasure and born out of a woman's pain
Many of us live our lives just for personal gain
Call it lust for life or call it what you may
Yet the clock on our lives it keeps ticking away.
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There's so much in Nature of which of to sing
The beautiful songs of the birds is a marvellous thing,
The music in the park of the freshening breeze
As it blows in the foliage of the bushes and trees
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