The Return Of The Curlews
At Mcloughlins beach in the Spring of the year
The beautiful flute of the curlews one hear
The eastern curlews they sing as they fly
Their music echo through Gippsland's coastal sky
From the colder northlands they journey on down
Above coastal City and Village and Town
Above beaches and foreshores in September they reach
The mudflats on the foreshore of Mcloughlins beach,
In fancy i can hear them fluting today
Above the white mudflats from here far away
The wild voice of Nature is a beautiful thing
The eastern curlews how lovely they sing
Their unmistakeable song in my memory remain
And in fancy i visit South Gippsland again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hardly A Role Model
Hardly a role model for every young boy
Though his retirement I do hope he enjoy
He waged war on Iraq and Afghanistan
He abused his power he is not a wise man
In a direct or an indirect way thousands because of him have died
To his Presidency historians will not look back in pride
One can say he used his power in a bad way
We reap what we sow as some are known to say
A war loving man who in war does believe
In January 09 The White House he must leave
To millions of people heartbreak he did bring
And not many people his praises will sing
In his ranch in Texas he'll retire with his wife
Where he can relax and enjoy the good life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He Was A Big Hero
He has just turned fifty his fastest pace slow
He is not the man he was twenty years ago
When they used to toast him at the local pub
And he was the hero of the football club
But time it did not wait for him time it ticked on
And he can only talk now of his better days gone
When he was his football club's number 1 player
And he could run as fast as a wildborn hare
And though he has such good memories of the past
The Seasons came and went and time went so fast
Whilst yet not an old man his hair is quite gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
Two decades ago when his hair was dark brown
He was a big hero the toast of the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Though Much About Nature's Ways
Though much about Nature's ways some claim to know
Our wonder of her only does seem to grow
Without effort great beauty she does create
The artists and writers her does celebrate
Her beauty is everywhere all around me
The magpie larks birds known to some as pee wee
Builds a cup shaped nest of mud on branch of tree
A marvellous wonder of Nature to see
Though Nature's wonders beyond me to explain
Such marvellous insights from her we do gain
When the frogs are singing in the pond and the drain
And the swallows fly low Nature's saying it will rain
Us air breathing life forms are born to die
But Nature lives on since the facts never lie.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Paper An Aussie
On paper an Aussie I thought I Might be
But that hardly would make an Aussie of me
I don't have the accent as most would agree
So I've decided to become an Aussie on paper not a good idea
A strong North Cork accent I do retain
So an Irishman on paper I will remain
A migrant in Australia and sad for to say
I might feel an outsider in Ireland today
Though my accent some struggle for to understand
I do love Australia this great Southern Land
The land of the World's oldest Indigenous Race
Where them and their culture by right ought to take pride of place
The home of koala and wombat and roo
Of emu, possum, rosella, lyrebird and cockatoo
poem by Francis Duggan
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So Little Of Nature
It first dawned on me at least five decades ago
That so little of Nature I do seem to know
New lessons from Nature I learn every day
Yet from me she does hide her secrets away
The beauty of Nature to look at is free
The blossoms in Spring on the fruit bearing tree
Each blossom one day to a ripe fruit does grow
So little of Nature I do seem to know
The boy of the fifties has grown old and gray
And the clock on our lives it keeps ticking away
To the father of time we eventually bow
And though I've been a student of Nature for many years now
Our Earth Mother keeps all of her secrets from me
Though her beauty to look at for everyone free.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Joe The Black Cattle Dog
Old Joe the black cattle dog has known a better day
Around his jaws he is looking rather gray
He still works cattle but at a much slower pace
A young dog is being trained to take his place,
Old Joe a great cattle dog from a great working line
Is getting old for working cattle at nine
Though still keen to work nowadays he easily tire
The old legs tiring though he still has the desire
To work at cattle but his owner Jimmy say
That Joe is nearing his final working day
He will retire him he has done enough
At his age working cattle for him is too tough
He was a renowned working dog in his prime
But dog and master must bow to father time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Many Life's Road
For many life's road is uphill all of the way
From the moment they are born till their very last day
They know what it is like to know of poverty
To make do on little their life's destiny
I feel that good luck in life has been with me
I never was homeless or a refugee
I never did go to bed hungry at night
For many life it is a much tougher fight
You do not have to go far poor people to meet
There are so many of them on Poverty Street
From where they live 'tis a long road to renown
Their ill luck to be born on the poor side of the town
For to live as a pauper is something most would not choose
Yet in life for one to win many have to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The God Within
So many worship their great god in prayer
Their unseen god who lives in god only knows where
Their unseen creator who cleanse their souls of sin
And they scoff at those who talk of god within,
A god within they say this cannot be
Though they do believe in the god they cannot see
An argument on god with them one could not hope to win
But human goodness only can come from within
In ways I envy them their gift of faith
Their love of their god in hymns of praise they celebrate
I wish at times that I could feel that way
But I do not have a god to which to pray
But the god within answers our every call
And to me that is the greatest god of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Liking For Rhyme
My literary tastes have not changed with the passing of time
I have always been one with a liking for rhyme
To rhyme is so easy as some like to say
Though rhymers seem so out of fashion today
But I am a lover of ballad and song
And rhymes with a lilt that just jingle along
I loved reading the old rhyming verse as a boy
Something to this day I do thoroughly enjoy
Some literary dons refer to a rhymer as a doggerel poet
As not anyone worthy of literary note
From the Poets Club with their words rhymers they exclude
For educated people they seem rather rude
But I am a fan of good old rhyming stuff
And for many years now I have been a rhyme buff.
poem by Francis Duggan
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