Francis Duggan Poems

I hear her in the wood across the way
The bird with yellow breast and cloak blue gray
She sings at dawn and in the evening late
And her song the local lyrebird imitate.
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The lust for power is an addiction the Government their own praises do sing
And rubbish their main opposition as to Government they try to cling
The voters bombarded with propaganda right up until election day
The true fact of all politicians is they seldom do mean what they say
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Many people the praises of warriors do sing
And they talk of war as if war is a good thing
There are tears in their eyes when the last post is played
And proudly they march in every war parade
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When I hear you talk of losers you I do not wish to hear
For you do sound quite judgemental and to me it would appear
That you've got that small man's complex though you stand over two metres in your shoes
And you keep on talking more rubbish after every dropp of booze.
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For to defeat terrorism one do not wage war on terror for terrorists do not respect man made laws
Since the only way that terror can be defeated is for Governments to attack it's root cause
And that is not to shoot and bomb and murder for terror is caused by inequality
For the war on terror ought to be more friendly a benign war on man made poverty.
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Not everybody is perfect and not everybody is good and kind
but if you look for the good in others the good you are certain to find
No such a thing as a good or a bad race of people in every race there's bad and good
Human Beings to say the least complex we are not easily understood
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The women of the World as people they are great
They give birth to the children and in so doing life create
In every woman ever born a nurturing soul you'll find
The mothers and the aunties a credit to Humankind.
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Young man why go to war live for as long as you can
A dead young brave soldier not as great as a living cowardly old man
The famous dead people though they live in renown
Are no better than the other dead of the town
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For as long as you never harm anybody and try to help others on your life's way
And never make an enemy on purpose and respect to the rights of others pay
And never lie about the character of others one's character
should be a sacred thing
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Where ever we go to our past seems to follow
Our past follows us to where ever we go
In my flights of fancy the Finnow is babbling
As through the old fields of Millstreet it does flow.
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