A Man With A Mind Of His Own
His praises he does not need others to sing
He lives in his own way and he does his own thing
He has no desire to be popular and well known
One might say a man with a mind of his own
He does not play cricket or golf or football
In fact he's not interested in sports at all
Not a member of any group or of a social club
And he always drinks on his own when he is at the pub
With a primary school going son and daughter and a home loving wife
A man who is happy with his lot in life
A man with a mind of his own in an ordinary town
There's none he looks up to and on none he looks down
He's never harmed anyone and he lives in his own way
He's a true individual of him one might say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cricket Is Just Another Game
Cricket just like baseball and football and golf is just another game
And though some great cricket players have won Worldwide fame
Cricket for most cricket fans like followers of all other sports
From their life cares is just an escape of sorts
The praises of sports celebrities millions every day do sing
And nowadays sports Worldwide is a huge thing
And those not in some way involved in sport a minority
At least that is how it does seem to me
I've got nothing against cricket I'd like to make that clear
Though on t v and radio so much of it to see and hear
Like every sport for millions of poor people I am aware
A temporary escape from their lives every care
And cricket after all is just another game
Like every other sport it is much the same.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dave
Tired of his long uphill battle in life
And tired of being nagged by his cranky old wife
Dave feels like a bird rejected by his flock
And the chip on his shoulder has grown to a block.
Tired of the fellows he meet at the pub
Waffling on about their football club
The praises of their sporting heroes so many do sing
Sports or sports people for him doesn't do anything.
His wife Lyn and he in ideas far apart
All the love he had for her gone out of his heart
Together under the one roof they may be growing old
But now towards each other they seem very cold.
Their only child a son Sam in his mid twenties lives and works in Japan
One who is successful a clever young man
He feels happy in his life on a distant shore
And they have not seen him for three years or more.
On his own at the Local pub he sits and drinks his beer
Grown men talking of football he does not wish to hear
And when he goes home he must cook his own tea
Since he and his Mrs Lyn do not agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Fellow Who Doesn't Fit In
He doesn't play sports drink alcohol or take dope and you might say he doesn't fit in
And he doesn't lust after young women and he's not seen as a man amongst men
He works hard to provide for his family and he leads a good and a clean life
And he is a nice man to talk to and he is faithful to his wife.
He's not a religious type person and he doesn't attend church on sunday
And he too in some ways a sinner the religious zealots might say
And some see him as a social outsider but to live clean should not be a sin
And he deserve respect not scorn the fellow who doesn't fit in.
He doesn't watch football on the t.v. or support any football team
And he's not part of any social club nor does he crave social esteem
Yet he has his many detractors in life it is so hard to win
And his type of man getting rarer the fellow who doesn't fit in.
He doesn't play cricket or football with his children as many a young father do
On sundays with his wife and his young son and daughter he's at the cinema, art gallery or zoo
And he is a man who loves Nature and is loving Nature a sin?
For he is looked on with suspicion the fellow who doesn't fit in.
Politics, women, money and work matters of such topics he tend to stay clear
And he's just your average type of person his children and his wife to him dear
Yet he is looked on as quite boring and his name is mentioned with a grin
And life isn't meant to be easy for the fellow who 'doesn't fit in'
poem by Francis Duggan
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Big J
Tis true about hate that it can be love turned upside down
And Big J a classic example the most bitter man in Town
Since Pam his wife she left him and with her took their five year old daughter Sue
One might say a long holiday the man is overdue.
He feels the World is against him he is always in a bad mood
And about his imaginary wrongs against him he silently does brood
When he is in the bar-room he always drinks on his own
He now ignores his old mates as if them he'd never known.
Tis said that Pam she left him because her he used to beat
And a kinder and more loving man she happened for to meet
But he feels so hard done by to none he says good day
He would rather brood in silence that now his chosen way.
Big J he looks so serious from society he has withdrawn
His life is from work to the pub and he rise for work at dawn
He has resigned from football and from the Football Club
And nowadays he drinks on his own down at the local pub.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just An Ordinary Fellow
His life revolves around work his mates and football
But his wife and children he seldom does talk of at all
Each evening after work he calls to the pub
Or else to the bar-room of the Football Club.
In his early to mid thirties he is well liked in the town
To have kicked five goals in the local Grand Final is his one claim to renown
And though his team did not win the flag he earned his local fame
With a best on ground display on a beaten side he made for himself a name.
His wife takes care of the children a boy of four and a girl of three
She is not well known in the town few as down to earth as she
So different from her husband she's never seen at the pub
And she is not a member of any local club.
He is a well liked character and in the town well known
And the local people say of him he is one of our own
Not a bad husband and father though better than him not hard to find
Just an ordinary fellow in his own way he is kind.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Local Outsider
To the local community he is not one of their own
And apart from them in every way he has grown
He does not share their interests of work, sports, small talk, drinking and football
In fact with them in common he has nothing at all.
He works in the big town some twenty miles away
But he returns to his home in the small town every day
Single in his mid twenties in the peak of his prime
And he does feel happy at least most of the time.
A spiritual person and an artist at heart
In community meetings and projects he never takes part
He draws and sketches at night and his art readily sell
And as a hobby artist he is doing well.
He was born in the small town but it does seem sad to say
That as a local outsider he is destined to stay
Even with those he grew up with little in common he share
He is an endangered species and his type are rare.
He is not a student of sports or football
And who won last year's Grand Final he does not recall
And though his praises none of the other locals do sing
He is his own man and he does his own thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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All Of Those Who Look On Him As Ordinary
He has never been lauded for courage
Or been a soldier and fought in a war
Or from his Hometown in the country
He never has travelled very far.
To most who know or know of him he seems ordinary
Yet those who are ordinary themselves are slow to realize
That the one who to them is quite uninteresting
Is one who happens for to be very wise.
He is not into football or sports of any kind
And to them he seems lacking in manly elan
So between them they have come to the conclusion
That he is just one more boring man.
He is not one who drinks at the local pub
Or talks about sports or on t v watches football
And all of those who look on him as ordinary
Do not really know him at all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Social psychology is especially interested in the effect which the social group has in the determination of the experience and conduct of the individual member.
quote by George H. Mead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Football His Diversion
He is not getting on with his unhappy wife
His Football Club his diversion from his problems in life
He looks forward to the weekend through each working day
To cheer on his team such is life some do say.
He and his wife seem to have little in common at all
She does not have any interest in football
And their nineteen year old daughter is living elsewhere
Experiencing life in the big World out there.
With his mates in the pub football stories they share
A diversion for them from their every care
Than football no greater passion in their lives they can name
To them it is more far more than a game.
It would seem love in their marriage it is of the past
But then few things in life ever do seem to last
On saturday he barracks for his team whilst she
Is with her friend in the cafe enjoying afternoon tea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Another Football Season
Another Football Season has just commenced having said so just the same
A lot of hype and excitement about a field game
For many from their life problems a relief of sorts
Suppose that's why the establishments created sports.
Some things do seem to change little from year to year
Of football fans discussing football one often does hear
They talk of their Club as if the Club they did own
'Tis from people like them that Football Clubs are grown.
They talk of team ratings and player stats and of last weekend's best on ground
And of who their team are due to play in the next round
And the forward with a goal for the taking who kicked a behind
Next week with the seconds a place he may not find.
Another Football Season commencing the barracker's wife
She does feel neglected but then such is life
He knows about Football and the words of the Club song
And his heart to the Club it does surely belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Not Your Type Of Town
It will never be known as a cultural town
Where footballers and macho men vie for renown
In the pub one once spoke of Rembrandt someone asked who is he
If he does play football his name is strange to me.
If you cannot talk of work, farming, politics or sports and join your pub mates in a beer
This not your sort of town what business have you here
Though if you like line dancing and Country music that might be your saving grace
For these are the most cultural things that are known to the place.
If you talk of Beethoven or Handel they might ask who are they
For they must not be famous never heard of them anyway
Those we most admire play cricket or football
These are the people that we wish to recall.
If you are literary minded or a poet at heart
Or if you are one who is interested in art
Then this is a town you ought not to live in
For here you may not meet with similar kin.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Sports As In Life
The town decorated in the colours of the local football club for the weekend's big game
Suppose in sports as in life it is all about winning and fame
The local footballers are playing for renown
For the fans and love of self glory and love of the Hometown
And for love of the club colours they proudly do wear
The very thought of losing even seems hard to bear
To the uninterested 'tis just another game of football
But in sports as in life the winners seem to take all
Of the admiration and fame and of singing their praises their fans never tire
And even gallant losers so few seem to admire
To be graceful in defeat to little does amount
In sports as in life only winners seem to count
At the weekend they play for the trophy and their self glory and sporting renown
And for their sporting succes hungry fans and for love of their Hometown.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Those Who Love Footy
To those who love footy a man of renown
The legend of sport from the little bush town
Footballers of his calibre hard to be found
On Grand Final day he was best on ground
But Tim the young artist one who doesn't like football
Says legends of sport don't interest him at all
To him the renowned locally raised footy player seems quite ordinary
Though many with him on that would disagree
He says sports fans elite sports people over-rate
That they are not worthy of the title of great
The greats of human history that historians recall
Were not sports people or never played football
And he says of the locally raised football legend I'm not putting him down
When I say he's an ordinary bloke from an ordinary town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mr Ordinary
One who had lived amongst them for seven months or so
He was nicknamed Mr Ordinary by those who him did not know
To most he did seem ordinary the most ordinary one of all
Since he was not a fan of tennis, boxing, golf, cricket or football
They were not his type of company their friendship he did not try to win
In their type of community he could not hope to fit in
The young emerging artist amongst them did not stay
And they do seldom even think of him or mention him today
As an artist becoming famous and financially doing well
At the big city art galleries his paintings readily sell
Photos and articles in the newspapers of late of him they see
They say he must be lucky how lucky can one be
He does not even know the name of one famous sports person he is so ordinary
Though art lovers of the city with them would not agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Friendships To Be Formed
They have so much in common they love to talk football
And big names of their favourite sport they do love to recall
Though not everyone in their drinking group barracks for the same club
Football the main topic of conversation when they meet in the pub,
Birds of a feather flock together as some do like to say
And that too applies to people or so 'twould seem that way
The one interested in art does not have one who loves sports as a friend
They would find each other boring why otherwise pretend,
For friendships to be formed there must be common ground
Amongst a group of football fans a tennis fan won't be found
'Tis out of common interests that the seeds of mateship are sown
Perhaps 'tis from there the saying was born that he or she is one of our own
If we all had the same hobby how boring we would be
Our different ways makes us more interesting or so 'twould seem to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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John From Fishguard
Sing old John a song of his Hometown of Fishguard in Wales by the sea
The Town he left when he was in his mid twenties in the Spring of nineteen sixty three
With his wife Jenny and their only child Garett who then only had just turned four
They went south to sunny Austrealia thousands of miles from their Homeshore.
His wife she is with the departed she passed on a few years ago
A victim of intestinal cancer her end it was painful and slow
He took care of her when she was bed bound a greater love he never knew
To each other they were devoted and to each other they remained true.
A gray haired man in his late sixties his better days he surely has seen
His son Garett who lives in New Zealand has a son of twenty and a daughter of nineteen
And though he lives on his own he seems happy at the local pub he is known to all
He enjoys his beer and the sing song and he loves to talk of football.
I once heard him ask the ballad singer sing a song of Fishguard for me
The old Town I left in my twenties in Wales by the Atlantic sea
The ballad singer did not know any Welsh song so he handed John his guitar
And John in his fine singing voice sung a song of Fishguard in distance from here very far.
The Welsh accent it is still with him and with him doubtless it will stay
Until the Grim Reaper will claim him the one we all must fall to one day
He enjoys a drink at the local pub where he is well liked and well known
And he never does seem dejected though he is one who lives on his own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You May Know A Lot About Your Favourite Game
You may know a lot about your favourite game
And from your commentaries and writings on it you know of wealth and fame
But there's more to life than talking of and writing of football
And about other things you seem to know little at all
By the followers of football your type are well known
And they look up to you as one in a class of your own
They well may be happy your praises to sing
For football to them is an important thing
But by other than me it has been said before
That football is just a game that and little more
For many from life's cares a brief getaway
To cheer on their team in the game of the day
And you football writer and commentator and sporting celebrity
You may seem enlightened to many but not so to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Footy Barracker
He does love his football his meat pie and beer
And when his team win so loudly he does cheer
He talks with his footy mates at the local pub
Of the weekend game and the winning chances of the club
His wife says that football has gone to his head
That his footy beanie he even wears with him to bed
The barrackers lives revolve around work, family the pub and the game
And footy widows for their wives is an often used nickname
And which club barrackers will sing their club song on that big day in September
In a moment for to cherish and until death to remember
For the losers disappointment for the winners sheer elation
And post Grand Final for a week or more great nights of celebration
It will make his year on Grand Final day if his team is the winner
Whilst he is talking footy in the pub his wife is home cooking dinner.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Working Man Is A Decent Man
The working man never daydreams of wearing the boss's shoes
But in the pub with his good mates he does enjoy his booze
And he enjoys their every chat of life and of football
Since politics and World affairs doesn't interest him at all.
Devoted to his family and devoted to his wife
The working man is a decent man he leads a moral life
To watch their favourite football team in action he often takes his family
So easy going and down to earth and of any cares he's free.
You never do hear him complain of how times are quite tough
That his wife and family are happy and well for him is good enough
His ancestors like him of working stock they never craved renown
They are amongst the great unsung who helped to build the town.
He gets up in the gray of dawn for work each working day
Let's hear it for the working man a rousing hip hooray
Two of his children are in primary school his youngest for school too young
In his early thirties in the prime of life one of the town's unsung.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This Is The Football Season
This is the football Season it is that time of year
When men in the pub talk football as they enjoy their beer
And look forward to September when one club will fly the winner's flag
The team that wins the Premiership gives their fans the right to brag.
Their wives nicknamed the footy widows their husbands at the football club
Or after work talking football with their mates down at the local pub
They take football so seriously 'tis their passion in life
The footy fan loves his football club as much as his children or his wife.
And if their team lose at the weekend they feel and look so sad
What's known as football addiction they seem to have it bad
They feel sad for their football team and the chance of four premiership points gone
But they cheer up and look forward to next weekend's game as the working week wears on.
This is the football Season football has gone to their head
And their football scarves and beanies they even wear to bed
About their team they feel so passionate as if to them it did belong
And 'tis with delight and pride in victory that they sing the club song.
poem by Francis Duggan
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