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Old

When Last I Was In Dunkeld

Posted Thursday 7th January 2010 at 01:29 by Francis Duggan
When last I was in Dunkeld on an evening in the early Spring
The long billed corellas squawked on the gums and the grey shrike thrush did sing
And a freshening breeze from Mt Sturgeon blew through the Rural Town
And young boys in the play park chased a football up and down,
When last I was in Dunkeld dark grey clouds promised rain
But the water dams near empty and bone dry the roadside drain
And the pied currawongs piped karrawang as they flew from tree...
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Old

In The Cool Gray Of The Dawning

Posted Thursday 7th January 2010 at 01:18 by Francis Duggan
In the cool gray of the dawning I hear the blackbird sing
One of Nature's finest minstrels of the far southern Spring
From the males of his own kind he has borders to defend
When the urge to breed is on him he trusts none as a friend
In the cool gray of the dawning the magpie's flute rings clear
And even in the moonlight his piping one does hear
When the fruit trees are in blossom and the frogs sing in the drain
The wildborn birds are whistling in...
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Old

I Love Where The World Is Quiet

Posted Wednesday 6th January 2010 at 03:32 by Francis Duggan
I'm not one of busy man made places I love where the World is quiet
A wood where the songbirds are singing in the evening in the warm sunlight
A cool place by a creek or a river when the warm sun burns in the sky
Lying in the shade watching the dark swallows as above the landscape they fly,
I love to be alone with Nature in a quiet place away from the Town
Where the grey shrike thrush the feathered musician in his cloak of light grey and brown
Is piping...
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Old

So Long I've Been Out Of Duhallow

Posted Wednesday 6th January 2010 at 03:28 by Francis Duggan
So long I've been out of Duhallow I'd feel a stranger there today
Where Araglen through the fields of Cullen to the Blackwater babbles it's way
In this far Southern Land I grow older the years have left me looking gray
And without me the white blossoms will bloom on the hawthron trees of the May
The Finnow through the fields of Millstreet on towards the Blackwater does flow
I farewelled the old fields by the river when Clara wore his hat of snow
Those old...
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Old

It Is A Warm Day For September

Posted Wednesday 6th January 2010 at 03:24 by Francis Duggan
It is a warm day for September around the 25 degrees
The nesting birds chirping and singing with only a very faint breeze
The Goddess of Spring in her glory the pittosporums in their grey flowers
The paddocks looking lush and greener as a result of the early Spring showers
On a blackwood tree the grey shrike thrush is whistling his voice so melodious and clear
And wildflowers bloom in woods and in paddocks Spring is such a nice time of year
A very warm day...
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