Francis Duggan Poems

Where I came from accomplishment means power of money
Unless of course you've known sporting success
And things are much the same here in Australia
If you are poor others you won't impress.
...

He talks about his days of wine and roses
When he was the man young women wished to know
And of the many women he made love to
When he was twenty two decades ago.
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We've sat listening all the evening to those oft sung melodies
And if you feel like singing mister sing us Songs of Sherbrooke please
Sing us Songs of Sherbrooke mister and let us hear the mountain breeze
Soughing softly in Kallista in those majestic gum trees.
...

Don't tell me that all men are equal and that all women are equal to men
Since I can only see inequality in a World of corruption and sin
The poor seem to be getting poorer and far too many in poverty
And the wealthy are getting far wealthier that's how it would appear to me.
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The oak tree forlorn and leafless and the day is cold and gray
But through the earth young buds are peeping Spring cannot be far away
And the spotted dove is cooing making known his territory
And any time of year in Nature wondrous things to hear and see.
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Old Mary Sue who lives by the rail crossing
She will be seventy on her next birthday
In her hair she doesn't use tints dyes or colours
And she is not ashamed to show her gray.
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The Queensland sun shines early in the morning
And keeps on burning hotter through the day
And though the Parklands watered by the sprinklers
Through the pale green patches of brown through gray.
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He bet five hundred for a win the horse beat by a head
But it did not seem to bother him 'no luck this one he said'
He backed the favourite in the race at odds of five to ten
And he has a tip for the next race he feels this horse will win.
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Weerloo weerloo a bird's voice in the night
Weerloo weerloo again then all is quiet
A bird the bushman hear but seldom see
They call them bush stone curlew or thick knee.
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Though most of her secrets from us well hidden away
From Nature we learn something new every day
Yet my wonder of her only does seem to grow
And the more I learn of her the less of her I know I do know
...