Lady Luck Has Been So Kind To Me
Some like to think that your past is gone forever
But your memories good or bad won't fade away
And green of Spring to the young eyes look greener
And our sense of wonderment grow less with every day.
And memories of a childhood close to Nature
Despite time's passage with me still remain
I hear the dunnock chirping on the hedgerow
And the skylark piping o'er the hill again.
I grew up west of Millstreet in Duhallow
And Summer days the happiest days of all
Free of the classroom and it's many restrictions
Such happy memories one tend to recall.
I often roamed by Nature's streams and rivers
And I grew to love the dipper's scratchy song
And I only feel now I might be a stranger
In Claraghatlea North where I once belong.
I could have been born to a ghetto mother
An Urban child condemned to poverty
Away from Mother Nature's joys and beauty
But lady luck has been so kind to me.
Male robin with the reddish breast is singing
In leafy grove just out of Millstreet Town
And greenfinch on a bay tree softly piping
In Quiet Mountleader as the sun goes down.
The country lad will always learn from Nature
The sparrows nest an untidy ball of hay
But they always line it with the softest feathers
And in Spring you hear their nestlings chirp all day.
The happy childhood memories will stay young forever
Though our sense of wonder ebbs as we grow old
And it's true each person to tell has a story
Though many stories must remain untold.
And my untold story is of my childhood close to Nature
A country boy is never ever poor
And I retain the memories of Spring mornings
When thrush and blackbird piped in Annagloor.
The cows from Wintering indoors out on pasture
And Duhallow flushed with wildflowers looking green
And I feel happy for my childhood memories
And happy for the beauty I have seen.
The moorhen chirp in tall reeds by the river
To warn her chicks when she sense danger near
And her dark and tiny offsprings swim to cover
And their cheepings I fancy I still can hear.
The horned sheep are high on Clara Mountain
The old man say a few fine days ahead
When sheep are grazing on or near the summit
The weather on the mend it has been said.
By circumstance of birth I have been lucky
And from childhood happy memories I retain
And I hear the dipper singing in the river
And the skylark piping o'er the hill again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those Green Fields Of Kilmeedy
Those green fields of Kilmeedy I do remember still
They meet the gorse and bracken at the foot of Clara hill
A place of peace and beauty with mountains all around
Scarce touched by man's pollution where Nature's joys abound.
Even in summer in Kilmeedy the dawn comes with a chill
But skylark he is piping above the bracken hill
Through Spring and through the Summer he sings all through the day
And I fancy I can hear him o'er mountains far away.
The robin he is piping on flowering hawthorn tree
Across the miles of distance his music comes to me
And dunnock on the hedgerow and dipper in the stream
And song thrush piping gaily on ash by old bohreen.
All through the Spring and Summer the wildering flowers are seen
But green fields of Kilmeedy not always quite so green
In November and December the winds of Winter blow
And January and February bring frost and sleet and snow.
In mid March in Kilmeedy the first wildflowers appear
And weather still quite chilly though days of bloom are near
But April brings her blossoms and leaves behind her green
And May comes o'er the mountain the summer beauty queen.
Those green fields of kilmeedy I see them every day
And I hear the skylark piping o'er hillsides far away
And dunnock on the hedgerow and the dipper in the stream
And those green fields of Kilmeedy have never looked so green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Memories Of Childhood Are Fading
My memories of childhood are fading as I grow older and more gray
Yet in my wild flights of fancy I get the sweet scent of hay
In the mown meadows of Summer in the far northern July
And upwards above the rank rushes the brown lark carols as he fly.
I'm not what you would call a poet I only pen doggerel
Yet I can relate to my memories and I too have stories to tell
Of my childhood close to Nature in the fields and groves by the Town
Where the deciduous green leaves of Summer in late Autumn faded to brown.
Where male bullfinch the quiet sort of a fellow in his cloak of pink, black and slate blue
A beautiful bird of rare beauty to his wife till death he is true
At dawn at the edge of his borders his quiet though familiar song sing
The orchardists they do not like them they eat their fruit tree buds in the Spring.
In my childhood I grew to love Nature and like every other country boy
To me the voice of the cuckoo in late Spring was always a thing of great joy
But I grew to manhood too quickly and time for me too did not wait
And each day I live sees me closer and closer to my use by date.
I fancy I still hear the dipper his voice is not distant 'twould seem
On a black river rock in the shallows in the heart of the babbling stream
His snow white breast to me familiar his wings and his back darkish brown
And as he pipes forth his scratchy notes his head always bobs up and down.
My memories of childhood are fading suppose nothing ever does last
And 'tis said we should live for tomorrow still we all remember the past
And still in my wild flights of fancy the robin sings on the hedgerow
And in the rank grass in the headland the shy pheasant out of sight crow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Young Zed Next Door
Patrick and Fleur have a baby daughter Arabella a little sister for young Zed next door
And he's so happy with his new born sibling and he himself still so young only four
And when you ask him how's his baby sister with a happy smile he answers she is good
These are the happiest days he will remember the foundation to a good life a happy childhood.
A fair haired boy with a cheerful disposition in years from now doubtless he will recall
His happy days in Watt street in Wonthaggi for good childhood memories are the best of all
His life journey may take him from Wonthaggi and he yet may live in a Land far away
But the miracle of the birth of Arabella through his life span with him destined to stay.
Young Zed next door is learning about Nature how birds and bees take nectar from the flowers
The honeyeaters sing in the back garden and magpie blows his flute in Spring's green hours
In Nature's garden natural growth is vibrant and blossoms bloom after the brief Spring showers
And childhood like Spring is such a time of beauty children's lives so spiritual when compared to ours.
I envy Zed his joy and innocence of childhood his young and happy soul full of sunshine
Long years ago and in a different country such joy and happiness was also mine
In Spring the World around me full of beauty and the lark was carolling in the clear blue sky
And wild brown bees out busy gathering nectar buzzing above the fields of Lisnaboy.
Young Zed next door is full of life and vigour he's such a cheerful and a happy boy
And the miracle of the birth of his young sister Arabella is
a thing he will look back on and enjoy
And in years from now these times he will remember though from Wonthaggi he may live far away
For happy childhood memories are the best of memories and through our life span with us tend to stay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Memories Of Lost Youth
When I was a young boy many decades ago
I thought babies like flowers in the gardens did grow
That's what I was told and what I did believe
Children have their innocence and are not hard to deceive.
I yearn for the innocence that I had then
Something that I lost in the World of men
Lost innocence we cannot hope to regain
Though fond memories of childhood we always retain.
When I was a young boy with joy I recall
The great tits young in the dark cavity in the stone wall
I did hear them chirp though them I could not see
The mysteries of Nature a wonder to me.
The winter was cold with frost wind rain and snow
And the river bank high in the old fields did flow
But Spring brought her birdsong her wildflowers and green
And Nature's great beauty for all to be seen.
My innocence died like the flowers of the Spring
But memories of lost youth a beautiful thing
The passing of time has left me looking gray
And a different World I live in today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Of Childhood I Have Such Good Memories
I recall when I was a young boy in my ninth year going on ten
I heard the shy cock pheasant cucking in early Summer in the rushy glen
He was one that I did hear often though him I rarely ever did see
A memory from the mid fifties that lives on in my memory,
I was growing to love Mother Nature even got to know some birds by their song
The chattering voice of the magpie was something one could not get wrong
The familiar song of the chaffinch he sings in my memory today
He sang on the birch tree in the meadow that scented of freshly mown hay,
Of childhood I have such good memories with Nature to me always near
the robin he sang in the woodlet he could be heard all through the year
I lived in an Earthly Utopia at least that's how to me it did seem
The bluebells bloomed close to the hedgerow the dipper he sang in the stream
And with me I carry those memories till death with me they will remain
And often in my flights of fancy I visit my childhood again
poem by Francis Duggan
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Happy Childhood Memories
Happy childhood memories the best memories of all
And my younger years in Millstreet I will always recall
On evenings in Summer up to the mid Fall
In the Townpark at the West End we played gaelic football
My friends of my youth where might they be today
Like me have the years left them balder and gray
Though some of them in the home Parish did stay
In life one might say we just went our own way
Since those days so many years have come and gone
And time does not wait it just ticks on and on
Many of the friends of my youth I may not see again
Though good memories of them with me does remain
And in fancy I chase the football up and down
With my happy young friends in the Park of the Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Skylark Sing Above The Mountain
The skylark sing above the mountain brow
And robin piping on the leafy bough
And lush green meads scent of the blooms of May
And it's Spring in a green Land far away.
I feel homesick at this time every year
I close my eyes the dunnock's voice i hear
In leafy grove the chaffinch chirp and sing
It would be nice to be home for the Spring.
It would be nice to go back home right now
When there is so much beauty to be seen
The birds are singing, wildflowers everywhere
And woods and valleys wear their richest green.
The currawongs are down from higher hills
I hear them calling on the tall gum trees
And morning air has breath of Winter chill
Whilst it's Spring in Ireland far beyond the seas.
If i had enough money i would go back home
If only for a month or even two
Enjoy the Spring, enjoy the peace and quiet
And do the things that i most like to do.
The skylark sing above the mountain brow
And robin piping on the leafy bough
And lush green meads scent of the blooms of May
And it's Spring in a green Land far away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Was Born Close To Nature
By my old home far north of here the babbling rill did flow
I was born close to Nature but of Nature little i do know
On the hedgerows of the old fields the birds welcomed the Spring
One can only look on Nature as a most amazing thing
The dark moorhen chicks from the reed bed to the river pool swim out
But their mum she calls to tell them if she sense danger about
And back into the reed bed they swim and from sight disappear
Though yet their little cheepings the passer by can hear
I was born close to Nature going back six decades ago
Near the rill from the high ground that to the river flow
Through Claraghatlea towards Liscreagh from the fields of Claramore
Far north of here as the crow fly from this far southern shore
And my wonderment of Nature it only seems to grow
And the more i learn about her the less of her i know i know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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She Wrote About Our Mother.
She wrote about our mother and it took me far away
And many, many years in time back home to Claraghatlea
And as I read her letter I fought to choke the tears
For Millstreet, Cork and Ireland and happy childhood years.
She wrote about our mother long under Tanyard soil
And memories flooded back to me of one with ready smile
Of woman who worked hard for us for no reward or pay
The heroine of our childhood years of happy by gone day.
She wrote about our mother with sense of love and pride
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside
For one who done her best for us her very best she tried
And I still feel she is with us her spirit never died.
A letter from my sister in east Rockaway in New York
Reminding me of childhood years in Millstreet County Cork
She wrote about our mother whose passing left a void
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I fancy I Can See You Old Duhallow
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
The swallows o'er your fields wing to and fro
And cows from wintering houses out on pasture
And birds are whistling on the green hedgerow.
I lay upon the bracken slopes of Clara
I see the Kerry hills beyond Rathmore
A skylark sing above the silent mountain
His song bring back to me the joys of yore.
You wear your green cloak of the Spring Duhallow
And your beauty from the mountain side I see
From Millstreet to Kanturk on towards Newmarket
Kiskeam to Cullen and up to Knocknagree.
I often think about you green Duhallow
You were the first great love I ever knew
But many others loved you better than I
And they feel quite content to live with you.
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
In your green groves the wild birds nest and sing
And swallows fly above your fields and meadows
And cuckoo pipes his fanfare of the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Good Memories Remain With Me
Good memories remain with me and good memories never die
Of Summer days on uncle Dan's and aunty Mary's farm in green old Lisnaboy
Above the rushy meadow the lark carolled in the sky
And the new mown hay it scented sweetly in the sunshine of July.
The wild brown bees were gathering nectar on the flowers by the hedgerow
And above the sunlit meadows the swallows flew to and fro
And butterflies of many hues flitted around the wildflowers
Their life is brief when compared to ours they are old in forty hours.
The childhood years they went too fast the time just seemed to fly
But our happy memories of the past we reflect on and enjoy
Cock robin with the rich red breast sang on the willow tree
The robin king of his small World his hard won territory.
With my Uncle Dan and Aunty Mary I tossed the hay to dry
In the mid fifties in July in green old Lisnaboy
In old Duhallow north of here and thousands of miles away
But the boy back then now getting old and showing his years in gray.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Many Life Is A Hard Battle
For many life is a hard battle but most rise again after a fall
And from life babies do begin learning long before they learn how to crawl
It would be nice to stay innocent for a lifetime but the innocence of childhood doesn't last
The years seem to go by so quickly and time as we know ticks on fast
'Tis sad to think some children have their innocence from them stolen and are exploited in the worst possible way
That they cannot look back on a happy childhood does seem so sad to have to say
The crimes committed against children are not easy crimes to forgive
Those guilty of such terrible atrocities with their shame must find it hard to live
I consider myself to be lucky my childhood years I did enjoy
Compared to many I feel privileged I did enjoy life as a boy
In the green countryside west of Millstreet where I grew into a young man
I learned about life from my mentors and my enduring love of Nature began
For so many life is a hard battle and they've never known of happy years
And they must live with their haunting memories of their unhappy childhood years.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Love Time Out With Nature
I love time out with Nature and I love peace and quiet
To walk along the gravel path in the evening sunlight
When the wild birds are singing and Spring is in her prime
And even memories of such inspire the soul to rhyme.
I love time out with Nature a brief release from care
For Nature she is generous her gifts with all she share
We drink of her clear spring waters and we breathe in her life sustaining air
And Nature's splendid beauty is around us everywhere.
I love time out with Nature the only God I know
Her stream from the high country down to the river flow
The skylark from the rank grass in the mood for song he fly
One of Nature's feathered minstrels he carols in the sky.
In time out with Mother Nature from life's cares I find ease
The sounds of the leaves rustling in the freshening evening breeze
And we much like the Seasons to life we come and go
But Nature lives forever the only God I know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Green Old Duhallow From Here Far Away
The fields in their beautiful wildflowers of May
In green old Duhallow from here far away
And nesting birds sing in grove and on hedgerow
In Cullen where Araglen waters do flow
On to the Blackwater en route to the sea
The old river babbles on eternally
Through a Countryside that is as ancient as time
That has inspired poets of the past for to rhyme
About the great beauty around them they had seen
In May when the landscape was looking so green
For May is a beautiful time of the year
In green old Duhallow so far north of here
The wonders of Nature a thing to enjoy
The cock pheasants are cucking in old Lisnaboy
In fancy I am back in the long ago
Just remembering a beauty that I used to know.
Were I a poet of such beauty I would write
White butterflies flitting in the warm sunlight
and cock robin with the sun on his red breast sing
In green old Duhallow in the latter Spring.
In fancy the song of the chaffinch I hear
In green old Duhallow so far north of here
Where the babbling waters of Araglen flow
Through fields to the Blackwater by grove and hedgerow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cousins Forever
It's funny what happens when death Arrives.
It's funny what happens when you say Good-byes.
Memories go rushing through your Head.
Words remembered that were Said.
Some words happy, Some words sad,
Some words funny, Some words mad.
When they told me you went Away,
I realized your memories would always Stay.
We grew up together, We grew apart.
The childhood memories will remain in my
Heart.
Cousins FOREVER we will always be!
You'll ALWAYS remain a part of me!
I'll always remember. I'll always Love You!
poem by Kymberly Berson
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I Will Take You Home To Millstreet
I will take you home to Millstreet when the may is in her bloom
And the green meads cloked with wildflowers scent of nature's sweet perfume
And the dark winged barn swallows white unders and throat rust brown
Wheel above the lush green pastures bordering Millstreet's country town.
I will take you home to Millstreet to the town by Clara hill
When the dipper sings her sweetest on green bank of babbling rill
And the male snipe late at evening with his wings make goat like sound
As above the silent rush fields he goes flying around and round
I will take you home to Millstreet when soft grass growing breezes blow
And relive again the old days with old friends I used to know
And give a call into the Bush Bar for the dance and the sing song,
I will take you home to Millstreet if with me you'll come along.
Will you come with me my darling to green valleys far away
When the birds in leafy woodlands pipe their sweetest notes of May
To the Land I still call Homeland, to the country of my youth
Ireland, North Cork and Duhallow where my manhood first took
root.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Oh Happy Days
Oh happy days,
Everyone likes you.
Oh happy days,
Please stay today.
Oh happy days,
Sweet like honey.
Oh happy days,
loving family ties.
Oh happy days,
Giving us strength.
Oh happy days,
Children out playing.
Oh happy days,
On the green grass.
Oh happy days,
With boundless optimism.
Oh happy days,
I give thanks.
Oh happy days,
Dreaming for more.
Oh happy days,
Warm and bright.
Oh happy days,
Like love eternal.
Oh happy days,
And glad memories.
Oh happy days,
New hope prayers.
Oh happy days,
With smiling faces.
Oh happy days,
Holidays and health.
Oh happy days,
With close friends.
Oh happy days,
Generous and giving.
Oh happy days,
Shiny rainbow dreams.
Oh happy days,
Till the very end.
Oh happy days,
Always and forever.
Amen.
poem by Rowina Mallick
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When People Ask Me Where I Come From
I am just a peasant fellow without pretension to renown
But in some ways I feel lucky I was raised near Millstreet Town
And if anybody ask me where are you from anyway?
I tell them I come from Millstreet from a place called Claraghatlea.
Claraghatlea that sounds a strange name and where the hecks might Millstreet be?
I tell them a Town in North Cork inland distant from the sea
In green and fertile Duhallow with high mountains all around
Where you can view the finest scenery when you climb the higher ground.
Of Millstreet you paint a good picture but how do it compare to here?
We only read of wet Ireland where the skies are seldom clear
Not much point in pretty scenery if the weather's seldom fine
Give me Queensland and warm weather, golden beaches and sunshine.
With them I don't try to argue each to their own point of view
And what they read of Irish weather in some ways is partly true
But I have often been to Queensland and thought the climate hot and dry
And even in cooler Victoria risk of skin cancer is high.
When people ask me where I come from my heritage I don't deny
I tell them I come from Millstreet twelve thousand miles north as plane fly
Winter months were wet and frosty and in Spring some heavy showers
But from May onwards so much beauty, fields and gardens full of flowers.
It is Spring now in Victoria and today is such a pleasant day
And the grey shrike thrush is whistling in the wood across the way
it is almost perfect weather a high of twenty degrees
And the nestling birds are chirping in their nests high on the trees.
Wish today could last forever but wishing cannot make it be
In the Summer temperatures soar to a high of forty three
And this a cool part of Australia further north it's hot all year
And to some parts rain is a stranger and the drought can hit severe.
When people ask me where I come from west of Millstreet Town I say
In green and fertile Duhallow in a place called Claraghatlea
This Claraghatlea sounds such a strange name and where the hecks might Millstreet be?
I tell them by Clara mountain inland distant from the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Walk In Nature
A walk in Nature never boring in Nature great beauty to see
The wild birds are chirping and singing on fence wire and bush and on tree
Away from the street and the traffic from human made pollution and noise
Above the gray scrub by the river the skylark he sings as he flies.
The poets have been inspired by Nature and of her great beauty they sing
The swallows return to their Homeplace when they sense the coming of Spring
And the artists they paint Nature's beauty the woodlands in their Autumn brown
And one can see the beauty of Nature even in the park of your town.
My stay on this Planet a brief stay but Mother Nature will live on
And the birds will be heard in the woodlands when I am forgotten and gone
Our lives they are not that important for our lives they are numbered in hours
But Mother Nature is forever and she outlives her beautiful flowers.
A walk in Nature never boring though she hides her secrets from me
Her birds always chirping and singing on hedge and on bush and on tree
My stay on this Planet a brief stay our average span ten years with three score
But Mother Nature is not for the reaper and she will live forever more
poem by Francis Duggan
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