Francis Duggan Poems

Horatius was a sixth century Roman hero glorified in Macaulay's Lays Of Ancient Rome
Horatius on the bridge who could forget it and it lives on as a classic English poem
He held the bridge against Lars Porsena's Etruscan army and gallantly with the bridge he went down
And his courage gave birth to an immortal legend he beat the odds and saved his old Hometown.
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The blackbird's song it takes me far away
To northern Land and to a distant day
His kin birds sang all day until sundown
In leafy groves just out of Millstreet Town.
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By those interested in war history war history is read
But the winners write the war history or so it is said
That is how it is and will always be
What is true to one is not to another that's how it seems to me
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Some lack in compassion as well as in empathy
And for the suffering of those they see as different can't feel sympathy
And sad to say nowadays their type are not rare
The small minded sort of the big World out there.
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Many look on what constitutes freedom one might say differently
What seems free to you may not seem free to me
To be ruled by your own people to you as freedom does count
But in the true meaning of freedom that to little amount.
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Of the reaper's scythe he does not feel aware
The old dressage horse in the paddock over there
His kind owner calls to see him every day
To make sure his water trough is full and feed him oats and hay.
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For to live a good life he does the best he can
The down to earth hard working honourable man
To support his wife and children he works hard for his pay
And for him at work there is never an easy day,
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Each time I see a ladybird I recall Clock A Clay
A poem in a school book years ago and far away
Written about the spotted beetle by the great poet John Clare
A gem amongst Nature poetry that to the best compare.
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He says he is good for the Country he goes to his job every day
And he works damn hard for a living and he's never drawn easy pay
And he is down on all dole bludgers he sees them as without a soul
Though he never tells anybody that he has two sons on the dole.
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Those happy Morris dancers make for a happy sight
They wear bright scarlet ribbons and their shirts and trousers white,
They clash their sticks whilst dancing and you hear the timbers ring
Though 'twould seem that Morris dancing is not a female thing.
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