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Old

Where The Cails From Kippagh

Posted Sunday 13th September 2009 at 01:12 by Francis Duggan
Where the Cails from Kippagh mountain to the Finnow flow
To that old green Countryside the Seasons come and go
And time never waits for us as they do say
And time from there sees me much further away.

Financially one might say I was not poor
But I left Claraghatlea and I left Annagloor
When old Caherbarnagh wore his hat of snow
The lust of the wander within me did grow.

From late Fall to early Spring 'twas windy wet and cold...
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Old

Another Dead Wombat

Posted Sunday 13th September 2009 at 01:05 by Francis Duggan
Another dead wombat lay on the road side
Under the wheels of a speeding car he must have died
Another dead wombat and too few who care
That these indigenous creatures already quite rare.

No more will he graze in the paddock nearby
When the face of the moon shines in the starry sky
And defend his borders and for the right to mate fight
An do the things all wombats do in the night.

No more at daybreak will he return to the glen...
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Old

Foggy Start!

Posted Saturday 12th September 2009 at 18:22 by BoatBirder
After an extremely chilly night I woke this morning just before dawn to a fogged in marina and to be honest almost turned over for an extra hours kip!

I made my way to Brandon just before sun up, playing the usual dare with the many rabbits and pigeons on route and arrived around 15 minutes before sunrise.

Read on... http://www.keithsbirding.blogspot.com/
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Old

When I Will Be Long Gone

Posted Saturday 12th September 2009 at 02:02 by Francis Duggan
When I will be long gone and forgotten and in Nature what's left of me lay
The creek will flow down to the river and the birds will sing at dawn of day
And Nature will live on without me no matter who comes or who goes
The blackthorn tree in late Autumn will be laden with dark ripened sloes.

Many great Human Beings have departed and though dead for centuries their names we recall
In life they had done many great things but they were only mortals after all...
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Old

On hearing A Magpie

Posted Saturday 12th September 2009 at 01:57 by Francis Duggan
Though it is now near the mid Autumn
And many long weeks from the Spring
As shades of night creep o'er the Suburbs
How sweetly the white backed magpie sing.

He is not singing out of Season
Since magpies sing all through the year
His flute like voice cannot be mistaken
It is such a pleasant thing to hear.

The black and white Australian magpie
Surely a feathered Prince of song
Once heard he cannot be mistaken...
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