Song Of A Wandering Fellow Poem by Francis Duggan

I know from where my life's journey began and god knows where 'tis ending
And I am just a wandering man and what's the use pretending
That I belong to any place to any State or Nation
Life can be like a mystery trip to an unknown destination.

For years I lived by Boggeragh hills in Millstreet in Duhallow
Till wanderlust it beckoned me and I could only follow
To a distant land beyond the seas to far and distant places
Away from Millstreet my Hometown and it's familiar faces.

To the hills of the pied currawong the wombat and the possum
Where in the depths of Winter the golden wattles blossom
The wattles quite resplendent covered in their flowers of yellow
A thing of beauty to behold for an ageing wandering fellow.

This wanderlust is like a drug a form of addiction
But I envy those who stay at home content in their restriction
They marry and raise their children in their own place of upbringing
Whilst the wanderer bound to wanderlust yearns for a new beginning

I left my Homeplace Claraghatlea to see the great wide yonder
And the wanderlust still in my heart and I still yearn to wander
And like restless water from the hill that scurries down the gravel
The wanderlust in me is strong the urge in me to travel.