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Old

It Will Always Be To Me

Posted Saturday 3rd July 2010 at 02:45 by Francis Duggan
Though nowadays there mine may be a stranger's face
It will always be to me my beloved homeplace
Old Claraghatlea where my life's journey began
Where from a young child I grew into a man
I grew to love Nature in fields far away
A love I retain that is with me today
I got to know some birds by their chirping or song
Their voices born of Nature one could never get wrong
On a calm Spring morning just before sunrise
I can still hear the...
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Old

Australia An Ancient Land

Posted Saturday 3rd July 2010 at 02:41 by Francis Duggan
Australia an ancient Land even in the Dreamtime
That has inspired many great writers to story and rhyme
Of tropical and temperate climates of varying degrees
And of wattles, pittosporums and eucalypt trees.

The Land of the World's oldest Indigenous Race
In Australia the Country's first people do take pride of place
'Tis said they first arrived from Asia on Australia's northern shore
Going back in time sixty thousand years or more.
...
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Old

Back There In The Place

Posted Saturday 3rd July 2010 at 02:38 by Francis Duggan
Back there in the place where the Cails waters flow
To join the Finnow by ditch, grove and hedgerow
In the home of the badger and silver back crow
Where in the warm winds of Summer the bog cotton blow,
Of June in Duhallow the memories remain
And in fancy I visit the old homeplace again
The curlew is piping o'er Matty Owens bog
Where I often hunted with Pudsy the dog
In distance from me the old fields far away
But I visualize them in...
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Old

On Seeing Gannets Fishing

Posted Saturday 3rd July 2010 at 02:31 by Francis Duggan
Above where the huge white surf waves toss two hundred metres out from the shore
The white fishing gannets do circle and soar
Then with folded wings into salt water they dive
To plunder the pilchard school on which they survive
Amazing to watch them circling as they fly
The feathered marine acrobats of the southern sky
True birds of the sea they do dive for their prey
For as long as they live they do fish every day
To watch gannets fishing...
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Old

I Like To Pen Rhymes

Posted Sunday 27th June 2010 at 01:59 by Francis Duggan
I am not a poet that I have said before
I am just a rhymer that and nothing more
In the Literary World not worthy of note
I've never pretended for to be a poet.

I pen rhymes of the lark with the musical bill
That carols so sweetly above the brown hill
A disappearing speck in the clouds of the sky
His music grows fainter as upwards he does fly.

I like to pen rhymes of the silver tongued rill
That to the big river babbles...
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