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Old

South Gippsland In April

Posted Tuesday 21st July 2009 at 03:48 by Francis Duggan
The leaves on the deciduous trees are turning brown
Yet in the Parks and gardens of Wonthaggi Town
The mynas are singing their songs tell of rain
And the frogs they are calling in the roadside drain.

Though into mid April and the Winter quite near
The weather quite warm for the time of year
On the beach at Cape Paterson the sun lovers lay
It may rain tomorrow but the sun shines today.

Only six weeks left of Autumn the time ticking...
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Old

Olinda In April

Posted Tuesday 21st July 2009 at 03:43 by Francis Duggan
Through the blue of the sky big woolly clouds of gray
And the sun shining bright on a beautiful day
And the deciduous trees in their browns and greens of the Fall
Olinda at it's best one of the fairest of all.

One of the many beautiful places in the Dandenong Ranges Olinda on the high ground
With acacias, gums, pines and deciduous trees all around
Where the song of the butcherbird he sings all year
It echoes in the woodland so pleasant to...
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Old

We Thank Mother Nature

Posted Tuesday 21st July 2009 at 03:38 by Francis Duggan
The sounds of the Carnival all around me
From the old market stalls in the park by the sea
The sea birds are circling the sunlit wooded hill
And the ocean looks calm and the waves all but still.

'Tis nice to be out in the fresh coastal air
A temporary relief from the stress of life's care
Though the voices of the stall holders and the music of the Carnival I hear
On the wooded hillside it is quite peaceful here.

Amongst the...
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Old

The Song Of The Curlew

Posted Tuesday 21st July 2009 at 03:33 by Francis Duggan
Above the brown bogland he pipes as he fly
The song of the curlew in the morning sky
Once heard unmistakeable so flute like and clear
In that old green Country many miles north of here.

The song of the curlew a beautiful thing
A familiar voice of the Northern Spring
It echoes so sweetly in the still morning air
Of his breeding borders he makes his own kind aware.

His wife lay her eggs by bog hole on damp ground
In a place...
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Old

The Man From Caherbarnagh

Posted Monday 20th July 2009 at 03:43 by Francis Duggan
The man from Caherbarnagh is showing his years in gray
He was raised by those mountains far north and far away
Above the old fields by the bog the swallows chirp and fly
And the lark is carolling in the clouds a small speck in the sky.

The man from Caherbarnagh has seen more than five decades of life
He is a Naturalized Aussie and he has an Aussie wife
His children and their children are Aussies with his family he will stay
Far south of Caherbarnagh...
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