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Old

A Wintery Night

Posted Sunday 27th September 2009 at 02:15 by Francis Duggan
The tiny frogs sing in the pond and the drain
And out there on the hill in the wind and the rain
The wild fox is barking so distinctive it's cry
And the coldness of Winter is in the dark sky.

The boobook owl calls one who hides from daylight
Out hunting for prey on this Wintery night
And the screech of the barn owl one cannot mistake
'Twill return to it's tree cavity before daybreak.

The small ring tail possums call out on the...
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Old

Like The Seasons

Posted Saturday 26th September 2009 at 03:25 by Francis Duggan
Like the Seasons the legends they come and the legends they go
But the river downland to the great ocean flow
And long after the life from all others have gone
Ageless Mother Nature will be living on.

The monarchs and presidents how arrogant are they
But they too must return to Nature one day
And the land that we think we own it is not ours
We live off of it just like the grass and the flowers.

Since he is a believer in equality...
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Old

On Hearing Goldfinches

Posted Saturday 26th September 2009 at 03:22 by Francis Duggan
The goldfinches in small flocks they twitter and sing
And the fancy in me it somehow takes to wing
And I find myself back in the field by the hill
On a bright Summer's day by the clear mountain rill.

That to the big river babbles as it does flow
And goldfinches are singing on the hedgerow
And the cuckoo is calling in the wood nearby
And the swallows above me they chirp as they fly.

At the foot of the hill overlooking the town...
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Old

It Has Been Awhile Now

Posted Saturday 26th September 2009 at 03:18 by Francis Duggan
It has been awhile now some two decades ago
Since I heard the dunnock sing in the hedgerow
Some things from the past with us do seem to stay
And I fancy I can hear him singing today.

The little brown dunnock with the thin slender bill
He sang in the hedge by the babbling rill
That flow to the river that to the sea flow
Though hidden in foilage his song I did know.

It has been awhile now since I heard the corncrake
In...
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Old

In Fancy

Posted Saturday 26th September 2009 at 03:13 by Francis Duggan
In fancy he walks in the old fields again
And he hears the birds sing in the wind and the rain
And he hears the lark carolling at dawn of the day
The old hill from him doesn't seem far away
Why should he feel homesick when he can visualize
And he can hear the robin sing at sunset and sunrise
And the cuckoo he calls in the wooodland nearby
And the swallows o'er the moorland they chirp as they fly
And though he often talks of the hills far away...
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