Francis Duggan Poems

I apologize but for what I do not know
And my standing with some 'twould seem at a low
'Twould seem I hurt their feelings with my pen
But in the game of life one has to lose to win.
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The Citizens band play the National Anthem at the front of the parade
And the returned soldiers march behind them in war their mark they had made
In a north eastern Country they had done their Nation proud
The National flags are waving and the cheering for them loud
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A so called sport of the upper class that inspired the bards to rhyme
Fox hunting is banned in Britain everything has it's time
For nothing last forever it had passed it's use by date
And in chasing down and killing a frightened creature what is to celebrate?
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I would love to go to Africa to see the wildlife there
To bring away from there great memories that with others i could share
To see the Serengeti the World's greatest wildlife park
And hear the male lions roaring and hear the wild dogs bark.
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Thomas Hardy was a master wordsmith with many an imitator
A leading writer of his time than him few if any greater
His poems and novels still in print his work has not gone out of fashion
He kept on writing to his old age and he did pen with a passion
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There are so many arrogant people who feel superior in their own arrogant way
And to the opinions of others respect they never seem to pay
You will find it in some ambitious females but mostly it is a male thing
Those who only sing their own praises the praise of others never do sing,
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A stranger to many now in Claraghatlea Townland and a stranger to many in old Millstreet Town
And a stranger now to the old fields where Finnow it winds it's way down
To join the great Blackwater river through places from here far away
I visualize things as they once were though few things as they were the same do stay
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From lying your soul is in spiritual poverty
But the truth though hard to say will surely set you free
Of any sense of guilt you may possess
And lead you on the road to happiness,
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Someone must have told him years ago that smiling is a crime
And I've never once heard him to laugh though I've known him for some time
He always wears a serious look they call him poker face
It would seem that in his sad heart for joy there isn't space.
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So beautiful to look at in the sun of a Winter's day
They feed upon the thistle seeds by the fence by the roadway
A small flock of goldfinches in red and fawn and gold
In their beautiful colours so lovely to behold.
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