Francis Duggan Work Poems

That time catches up on us all is surely not a lie
He is too old to work and he is too young to die
On retirement pension and quite bored with life
He spends much of his time arguing with his wife
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A modern young poet with literary ambitions some of his poems to me did show
And asked me what i thought of his poetry i told him that i did not know
Whether it is or is not good poetry since i do not have a literary degree
What is very good to some people may not seem at all good to me
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Birth circumstance, war and drought these three
Among the main causes of extreme poverty
Who would wish to be stateless or homeless or a refugee
In life lady luck she has been kind to me
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As he drove home from work at twilight of the day
Any heed to news of widespread flooding on his car radio he did not pay
The river in brown flood flowed like an inland tide
And flooded the flat ground for miles on either side
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He wonders why females him do not wish to know
But 'tis not him they dislike only his b o
Had he showered occasionally he might smell okay
Take me as you find me to that he might say.
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Hard workers are long lived that does seem a lie
For the harder you work the sooner you may die
You drive a car hard though it's engine and body is strong
It quickly wears out it does not last that long
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A little hard work never harmed anyone
The hard working dad's advice to his son
Though some would consider this to be a lie
That the harder you work the sooner you will die
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The shearers work hard for a living for them never an easy pay
In shearing sheds in the warm weather they work through the heat of the day
At the end of a long shearing Season their backs from constant bending do ache
They work in the evening till nightfall they start shortly after daybreak
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Your boss is very arrogant some bosses are that way
Another awful day at work you've had a rotten day
You've seriously thought of quitting and handing notice in
Sometimes life can be trying you lose before you win
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Out of work with a wife and three young children to keep and big bills to pay
And in your search for a job start another unsuccessful day
But hope springs eternal as some like to say
And you feel that a job start for you in time not far away
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The crimson rosellas on her canvas look so life like and real
This woman for things natural she surely has the feel
Her amazing sense of colours a genius at her trade
Great artists like great writers are born and not made.
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Have you ever felt so tired as you struggle out of bed
And switch off the alarm clock with a throbbing in your head
At five thirty in the morning as dawn's lamp brighten the sky
And the fluting of the butcherbird to you is not a thing of joy.
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This shovelling concrete is a bore
I feel tired can't take much more
All this working like a slave
Will ge me an early grave.
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The knockers pigeon hole him as the work resistant man
And they say he has never worked and that work not in his future plan
And that he's one of those people who is softened from welfare
Just one of the bone lazy his type are everywhere.
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Down on his luck and out of work
Thousands of miles south of Kanturk
His home up to five years ago
Where the Allow waters flow.
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I can't say my life's been a great life that I've been there and I've done that
But I worked in pipe laying crew for Michael Kelleher in Buninyong near Ballarat
And I worked in the late eighties for a firm called C.D.L.
Jack hammering in the heat of Summer when the days were hot as hell.
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