Francis Duggan Poems

To me from Summer meadows come the pleasant scent of hay
And i hear the finches singing on the hedgerows far away
And to the shallows of the sunlit river pool the minnows venture out
The red spotted silvery little fishes who will grow into brown trout,
...

I am the same Francis Duggan who sat on the dunce's stool
In my young years in the fifties in Millstreet Town Primary School
And they were right all of those who forecast i was one not born to lead
That in the eyes of big brother i was not destined to succeed
...

She will not grow gray and bent with age and her sight won't slowly fade
The ten year old in Lebanon who died in a bombing raid
Her shattered mother racked with grief weeps for her night and day
It seems all wrong that one so young should die in such a way.
...

The wisdom of Chief Seattle will live forever
Though he used his words in such a simple way
For decades beyond his lifetime his words still living
And they will live for centuries beyond today.
...

It is not your Nationality or the colour of your face
For the plain truth of the matter is there's good and bad in every race
'Tis the type of person you are that in the end does count
And little else about you to much does not amount.
...

Noleen she is in her late sixties she smiles through a gap in her teeth
And she is a warm hearted person and she is a pleasure to meet
She doesn't wear makeup for to hide signs of ageing or use hair dye for to cover her gray
There is nothing conceited about her she ages in a natural way.
...

I cannot say that i was unhappy and a happy one cannot be poor
'Twas the lust for the wander and that only took me from the fields of Annagloor
And the old Townlands west of Millstreet and the roadway from Millstreet to Rathmore
Though true what they say of the savage the savage loves his native shore.
...

One must go back some fifty years since he was in his prime
And time is catching up on him the Town's old man of rhyme
His poems now few and far between his pen is moving slow
His inspiration well is running dry 'twas full long years ago.
...

One can say she is a head turner they call her the Rose of the Town
With eyes as dark blue as the ripe sloe and her wavy shoulder length hair of brown
She sure is a beautiful looker but her beauty has gone to her head
To be the main focus of attention is not good for the ego 'tis said
...

We are ruled by males with bulging egos who feel they are born to lead
Who trample upon others feelings in their great desire to succeed
They cannot be taken at their word the people so lacking in trust
Those who lust after power in a big way find it hard to be honourable and just.
...