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Old

In Fancy I See Clara

Posted Tuesday 18th May 2010 at 01:12 by Francis Duggan
In fancy I see Clara in his rugged face of brown
Overlooking the old green fields that border Millstreet Town
And the little lark is carolling as upwards he does fly
And though out of sight his tinkling notes sweet music in the sky
'Tis many thousands of miles from here to Hibernia's windswept shore
And another two hours drive by car to the slopes of Claramore
It may seem far in distance from here far north and far away
But in my flights of fancy...
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Old

The Black Feathered Songster

Posted Tuesday 18th May 2010 at 01:09 by Francis Duggan
The black feathered songster with the golden bill
He sings on the tree by the babbling rill
The song of the blackbird melodious and clear
A familiar voice in the Spring of the year
In his song males of his own kind the message of warning does hear
To my borders you better not venture near
At this time of year his own kind not a friend
In his song a warning that his patch he'll defend
Concealed in her nest from predator eye
His partner...
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Old

When I Visualize I Hear And I See

Posted Tuesday 18th May 2010 at 01:06 by Francis Duggan
When I visualize I hear and I see
A lovely cock robin on a silver birch tree
Singing with his orange feathered breast puffed out in the wind and the rain
In my flights of fancy I am back home again
The sun shines through the rain clouds on a blustery day
And the hawthorns cloaked in their white blooms of the May
The swallows above the fields fly to and fro
And nesting birds chirp and sing on the hedgerow
'Tis not very hard at all to visualize...
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Old

The Curlew He pipes In My Memory Again

Posted Monday 17th May 2010 at 02:23 by Francis Duggan
In my flights of fancy I fancy I hear
The song of the curlew melodious and clear
Above the brown bogland from here far away
When the bog cotton bloom in the prime of the May
With bracken and bog cotton growing all around
His partner sits on her blotched eggs on the boggy ground
In their nesting Season the curlews like most birds are secretive kind
And their simple ground nest is not easy to find
In the Northern Spring just after sunrise...
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Old

The Merri In Flood

Posted Monday 17th May 2010 at 02:21 by Francis Duggan
The old Merri River in flood waters of brown
Is flowing on bank high on by Warrnambool Town
In and out of Lake Pertobe on it's sea going way
To join the Pacific at famed Lady Bay
The old river that is old even in time
That has inspired the poets and songwriters to rhyme
In the age of the dinosaurs the Merri was old
In full flood the river a sight to behold
In Summer by the banks of the river in the shade of the trees
The Indigenous tribes...
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