Port Albert
The silver gulls mewing in the Village, the fishing boats moored to the pier
The gentle waves break at the jetty in fancy these scenes to me near
The last time I was in Port Albert the black and white bird known as pee wee
He piped in the afternoon sunshine on a flowering pittosporum tree.
Port Albert in Southern Gippsland doesn't change with the passing of time
A fishing Village by salt water the bards by it inspired to rhyme
The artists have captured it's beauty on canvas for to hang on the gallery wall
And all of those who have paid it a visit the memory feel glad to recall
The last time I was in Port Albert in September in early Spring
On a day of bird song and sunshine that memory to me seem to cling
A warm wind blew in from the ocean it was such a marvellous day
A gift from the Goddess of Nature to me for to carry away
From the fishing Village of Port Albert that developers yet have to find
The Utopia of Southern Gippsland are words for it that spring to mind
In the old cafe in the Village we enjoyed cappucino and cake
And I will re-visit Port Albert if only just for old time sake.
The silver gulls mewing on the jetty, the sun shining bright in the sky
As we drove on out of the Village this time it would not be goodbye
For I will return in September in the early days of the Spring
When magpie will pipe on the gum tree and blackbird will whistle and sing
poem by Francis Duggan
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Port Fairy In Spring
In Port Fairy by the ocean nesting birds chirp and sing
On a sunny day in early September in the early Spring
In a lovely old place on a beautiful day
The Spring is in town for her annual three months stay
In the home gardens and parklands shrubs and trees and flower beds in their flowers
And the coastal lands green after recent Spring showers
In Victoria Spring is such a lovely time of the year
And with each passing day warmer weather is near
The mud nesting magpie larks call out pee wee all day
From Utopia Port Fairy does not seem far away
Near Griffith Island one can hear the ocean's loud din
As the big waves at high tide to the beach rumbles in
In the old coastal town for it's beauty well known
Port Fairy it does have a charm of it's own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Best Day Of The Year
This morning very early I heard the magpie sing
And suddenly it dawned on me it's the first day of Spring
The dawning of September and on the stringybark
The white backed magpie whistled sweet music in the dark.
The first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere
For Spring the Season of beauty and of greenery and youth
A time of bloom and grass growth when seedlings take to root
The Spring came in at midnight from places far away
She crept in through the darkness for her annual three months stay
And magpie he woke early on the stringybark tree
And for the welcome visitor piped his sweetest melody.
This morning very early before the dawn of day
The magpie welcomed the visitor from places far away
And the first day of September the best day of the year
That is if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Return Of The Curlews
At Mcloughlins beach in the Spring of the year
The beautiful flute of the curlews one hear
The eastern curlews they sing as they fly
Their music echo through Gippsland's coastal sky
From the colder northlands they journey on down
Above coastal City and Village and Town
Above beaches and foreshores in September they reach
The mudflats on the foreshore of Mcloughlins beach,
In fancy i can hear them fluting today
Above the white mudflats from here far away
The wild voice of Nature is a beautiful thing
The eastern curlews how lovely they sing
Their unmistakeable song in my memory remain
And in fancy i visit South Gippsland again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Down South In South Australia
Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
A place of Indigenous history where history has often been made
Home of renowned Australian Rules Footballers men who are known Worldwide
They wore the magpie colours with a certain sense of pride.
In the beautiful Port River the dolphins sport and play
In fancy I can see them in the sunlight of the day
From the pier at Port Adelaide one them often does see
Marvellous memories of such beauty keep on coming back to me.
Those grand old Towns of South Australia by the far southern shore
Port Adelaide and West Lakes, Largs Bay and Semaphore
Fond memories of such beauty one always does retain
And in my flights of fancy I visit there again.
One can only imagine in the warm sunshine and breeze
The very first Australians had their corroborees
Long before the coming of the Europeans many centuries ago
Though little of their history or their ways we do know.
Down south in South Australia in old Port Adelaide
Of there I have great memories and great memories never fade
Of an old place that's full of history and the friendly people who live there
It's famous Football Club and renowned Australian Rules Players are well known everywhere.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The White Waves At Port Fairy
The white waves at Port Fairy they make a loud din
As on to the long beach the tide does roll in
And the dainty looking silver gulls mew as they fly
As the sun disappears in the gray evening sky
Thousands of centuries before the first Humans came to this great Land
The tide at Port Fairy rolled up the gray sand
Long before the first dinosaurs from their eggs pecked their way free
The huge white waves rolled in the Southern Sea
Though to the Port Fairy locals mine is a strange face
I do feel at home in this beautiful place
The artists have sketched it, the writers of it write
Their stories and poems for to read and recite
A special place to many and a special place to me
Port Fairy where the land does meet with the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Windy Day In Early September
The wind keeps the air that bit cooler today it is sixteen degrees
And beautiful pink fluffy blossoms adorn the flowering gum trees
And wattlebirds sing in the sunshine though not very pleasant their song
Their hoarse call is very distinctive once heard you cannot get it wrong.
A windy day in early September in changeable weather of Spring
The white backed magpie the marvellous songster in his territory he sing
At breeding time he is aggressive his own kind not even his friend
And he's been known to attack humans with his wife and his young to defend.
A windy day in early september dark rain clouds tell rain is quite near
And the sun that had briefly been hiding between a break in the clouds re-appear
In one day you can get four Seasons 'tis like that at this time of year
But in early days of September you know that warm weather will shortly be here.
A windy day in early September and rain is beginning to fall
And on the flowering gums and wattles the wattlebirds chatter and call
But gone is the coldness of Winter and fruit trees wear pinkish white flowers
And everywhere looks fresh and greener in the sunshine after the showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Killarney In Victoria
Killarney in Victoria a place that has a soul
The white waves on the sunlit beach how beautifully they roll
October at it's finest the sunshine in the sky
And the silver gulls are calling as above the waves they fly.
In killarney in Victoria by the Pacific sea
The grey shrike thrush is whistling on a coastal banksia tree
On the second week of October in the prime of the Spring
The rumblings of the ocean near where wild birds chirp and sing.
Killarney in Victoria has a beauty all of it's own
And though I've been to many places tis as fine as I've seen or known
Above the flat green paddocks the skylark is in song
Through Spring and early Summer he carols all day long.
Killarney in Victoria even old in the Dreamtime
Has been sketched by famous artists and has inspired the bards to rhyme
Where the white waves of saltwater roll up the sandy shore
In a place that has been forever and will be forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In South Gippsland In September
On the fruit trees in the gardens the pinkish blossoms are in bloom
And by the roadside fences yellow flowers are on the broom
And the flute like notes of the magpie have such a melodious ring
In South Gippsland in september in the infancy of Spring.
The weather not too cool or warm it's a near to perfect day
And the nesting gulls are calling on the cliffs above the bay
And the bubbling song of the butcherbird is a joyful thing to hear
In South Gippsland in September it's a pleasant time of year.
The lark above the coastal scrub is carolling as he fly
And upwards he's ascending a small speck in the sky
And hidden in a tuft of grass her eggs warm beneath her breast
In south Gippsland in September his mate sits in her nest.
The pleasant sounds float to me in the freshening coastal breeze
Of crimson rosellas chirping on gum and wattle trees
And the hoarse cacklings of the wattlebirds are familiar sounds to me
In South Gippsland in September where the land meets the sea
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song for girl in checkered shawl
gentle girl
in checkered shawl
in Safonkovo,
the artist's village
charming girl
and of delicate smile
in your simple rustic clothes
like any other girl everywhere
with her dreams, her loves
flowering in time, coming of age
with nature's rhythms
girl of desires and wishes
and warmth and good heart
anonymous, unknown
and growing and marrying and begetting
and loving and nurturing and passing
in time past, another age
another clime
and this your lovely smile
that reaches us from your village
this the beauty of you
O girl in checkered shawl
in Safonkovo
the artist's village
this look of you, Venetsianov
sends from the distant past -
this
I breathe in like
I breathe the fresh air
in an early Spring morning,
O darling girl of Safonkovo
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Port Fairy By The Sea
For culture and hospitality it has won renown
Port Fairy by the ocean a famous old Town
To it's famous music festival that is held once a year
People from all Nations they come from far and near
Those who visit there for a seaside holiday
Of beautiful Port fairy have only nice things to say
The locals so friendly, warm and free of care
And with coastal views where beauty has never been rare
Nature's coastal beauty is everywhere to see
In beautiful Port Fairy where the land meets the sea
Most of the people who live there are hospitable and kind
As near a place to an Earthly Utopia as one would wish to find
With no signs of pollution in the clear ocean sky
And the oystercatchers above the beach sing as they fly
poem by Francis Duggan
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Beautiful Port Fairy
The air is so clean of pollution 'tis free
In Port Fairy the beautiful Town by the sea
With little development it's old charm it retain
You visit it once you will come back again.
They have a huge music festival there once a year
And to it music lovers come from far and near
Musicians from every Land entertain on every street
For three days Port Fairy the place where all cultures do meet.
From Britain and Ireland and Italy and France
The lovers of culture they sing and they dance
Musicians from Africa, Germany, Brazil and Spain
Arrive for the big weekend come sunshine or rain.
Of beautiful Port Fairy 'twould be fair to say
That Utopia from it cannot be far away
It's beautiful beaches the clean ocean air
So few places with it can hope to compare.
The Norfolk pine trees there five or six decades old
One might say a beautiful sight to behold
Just part of Port Fairy's charm and it does seem to me
That Utopia is near to this Town by the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Former Rose Of Port Fairy
She was a former Rose of Port Fairy where the white waves of Pacific roll
But the years have left their mark upon her the years on us all do take toll
Though for one in her mid to late fifties she certainly does look okay
With anti ageing cream she hides time wrinkles and with brown dye she covers her gray
With primary school going grandsons and granddaughters her biological clock ticking away
Back in the late sixties to the mid seventies I heard one who knew her then say
That she was Port Fairy's finest though since then many a yesterday
And beauty of youth does not last long and prime beauty with one does not stay
In her fifties a two time divorcee she may give marriage one more try
The old saying of the third time lucky in her case who knows might apply
Love in her life once more has blossomed the joy of love is a marvellous thing
Her new love she met in October in the prime of Victoria's Spring
A former Rose of Port Fairy with brown dye she covers her gray
But time does take care of all beauty and time it keeps ticking away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Gippsland Hills
The hills of Gippsland were so green but that was in September
And songbirds piping happy songs as well I might remember
But now the Gippsland hills are gray since sun changed the grass colour
And though the sun shines hot today this countryside looks duller.
The Gippsland hills were green in Spring and grass growing winds were blowing
And all along the sunlit hills the wildering flowers were showing
And bell magpie piped his joyful notes and butcherbird was singing
And through those hills those happy hills the bushlark's voice went ringing.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills grown lonelier and quieter
And like the shades of old man's hair they've turned a gray type whiter
The nearby creek in trickle flow, the birds have lost their voices
And not one of Nature's minstrels now on Gippsland hills rejoices.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills have lost their Spring like colour
And though the sun shines hot today the Gippsland hills look duller
But Spring bring green to Gippsland hills Spring rains and soft winds blowing
And birds will sing on Gippsland hills and Gippsland creeks fast flowing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Eavan's Grandma
She feared the women
at the port when her
husband's ship docked
there the port.
She went to the port
to see her husband
each time he arrived
I like the man
and the wife.
'Aren't they
the same kind of girls
anyway? ' he thinks,
she doesn't know it.
(Oct.5,1997)
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Song - Monie a Smile, Monie a Tear
There’s monie a smile and monie a tear
On the mystery tour that brings us here
It’s monie a mile and monie a year
Since you and I sailed fae the crumbling stane pier
It’s time noo tae quit the ocean o’ dreams
Tae gan hame tae the village by the trees
And the wun was fair; we had followin’ seas
Your een were glowin and your heart was free
I lost myself in an whirlpool of words
In a world of hunger, egos and swords
I searched for a song to make it alright
Way back whun everything was black an’ white
And time was wi' us for monie a mile
When the starlight was bright and filled the night
Our hopes reached the sky, and strangers were friends
The waves weren’t breakers between us back then
When we were the morning, fresh as the breeze
Blowin’ oot fae the village by the trees
Noo the loch and glens, and the trees and the hills
The oul stane harbour, they’re all waiting still
And roon the ledges o’ galloway’s cliffs
There’s flocks o' herring gulls and razor bills
And doon by the surge at the Yellow Isle
There’s monie a curse and monie a smile
Or is this me back to the dreamin’ again
Oe'r the bridges of time consigned to flames
When kids fell in love by the oul village shop
And stole tender kisses doon by the White Loch
Tae set them aff doon the road that leads here
Windin’ far fae the village by the trees
On The Second Week Of September
Across the high green paddocks the freshening winds blow
In the sunshine of September near where the river waters crawl slow
Near the end of it's journey the deep salty sea
The river water like us fulfil their life's destiny.
A pair of crows are building their stick nest high on a gum tree
And the mud nesting magpie lark known to some as pee wee
Are singing out pee wee their familiar song
Some voices of Nature one cannot get wrong.
On the second week of September in the early Spring
The nesting songbirds chirp and whistle and sing
With young to be raised and borders to defend
The circle of Nature does not have an end.
I do feel quite grateful as the word can be
That another Spring I have lived for to see
For the natural beauty to look at that's free
Of Nature herself who is all around me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Such Beautiful Weather
The wattlebirds calling on the flowering gum trees
On a beautiful day in mid Winter of around eighteen degrees
Such beautiful weather for the time of year
Six weeks to September and Spring is drawing near
A pair of magpies with nesting material for their nest nearby
Make a whirring sound with their wings as they fly
Their young will be fully fledsged by early Spring
The wonders of Nature is a marvellous thing
With black, gold and gray feathers one cannot get wrong
The beautiful bird with the ordinary song
The new holland honeyeater searching for insects and nectar their chirpings one can hear
On a beautiful day for July of the year
September and Spring it is not far away
And we ought to feel glad for this beautiful day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Crumbling Chalk
Beneath the cliffs of crumbling chalk was once a path
where you could walk. The walk would take you down to
the sand where fishing boats would come to land.
Now this crumbling chalk falls into the sea, where once
crabs and lobsters were caught for tea.
No scavenging left in this lonely bay even the gulls
have flown away; they have left the waves and the spray
are they to return another day.
Nets and pots have been swallowed up by the waves and
now their left to sleep in watery graves. A fishing village that was
once a boom has now become an empty tomb.
An oil slick just driffted into the shore and took away the beauty
that it had known before. Crumbling chalk that drops like tears
on the sand that's black made from the oil smears.
There is nothing left to self contain, oh will they no come
back again.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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In The Prime Of September
The paddocks looking yellow where the capeweed does bloom
And bright golden flowers on the gorse and the broom
And the flute of the shrike thrush is pleasant to hear
In the prime of September in the Spring of the year
At this time of year the musical magpies they sing day and night
How pleasant to hear them piping in the moonlight
And blackbird by his voice you cannot get wrong
He welcomes the dawn of the day with a song
Frisky lambs in the paddocks are frolicking about
When the Goddess of Spring is in the Land of the south
The laughter of the kookaburra the call of the weerloo
The big dark brown bird better known as yellow tail black cockatoo
Fruit bearing trees in blossom and nesting birds sing
In the prime of September in the southern Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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