Francis Duggan Poems

The best road in Northern Ireland is the road out of it she say
Near forty per cent unemployment it has always been that way
And who is to disagree with her as Sharon ought to know
For she lived in Northern Ireland up to a few short months ago.
...

The heating up to twenty five and the lounge room nice and warm
And Joe sits on the sofa studying the racing form
With his ears tuned in to 3 U Z what's Higgins got to say
The movement in the market and the scratchings for the day.
...

Steve the one who talks to wombats ventures out in the moonlight
When in the woods and paddocks of Kongwak the shy creatures of the night
Are calling to each other in the freshening late evening breeze
And the leaves can be heard rustling on the gum and wattle trees.
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Dark haired eight year old of Baghdad to you I would like to say
I am sorry very sorry that you suffer in this way
But my sorry no use to you that won't give you your legs back
And to you it does not matter who will or won't rule Iraq.
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No nothing last forever that's what old Linda say
And on looking back the decades she can recall the day
When she and Joe as lovers they walked out hand in hand
But he is far from her today maybe in another Land.
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The one who does not bow to king or queen
And does not speak too loudly to be seen
And give support to and not put others down
This is the person who should wear the crown.
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On a gray gum by Silcock's road the pale eyed raven crow
Caws as did his ancestors many centuries ago
And those old hills of Toora that overlook their name sake Town
In the warm days of the Summer change from Spring green to brown.
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She looks out through the window on her neighbour's garden whilst talking to her friend on the phone
And she feels she is without blemish so she can cast the stone
And her stones of course are verbal stones and words are quite hurtful too
And with her words one well might say she has harmed quite a few.
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He won't be going back to the field by the high wood by the hill
And walk along by the old stream whose tongue is never still
He is happy in this tropical town of sun shine every day
And he doesn't pine for what has been and brown hills far away
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Of her she was quite fearful though she did not have a gun
A so called devout woman this Roman Catholic nun
She often beat her rather brutally by her she was defiled
When she was quite defenceless a seven years old child.
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