Those Legs That Once Could Run So Fast
Those legs that once could run so fast feel heavy now and slow
He sure is not the man he was some forty years ago
He played football with his young mates he drank till pub closing time
But that was many years ago when he was in his prime,
On looking back the decades time seems to have gone fast
He had his good days one must suppose though nothing seems to last
And time catches up on all of us though some with hair dye cover their gray
But Mother Nature on us all does have the final say,
Forty five years ago he was the hero of the local Football team
In the cup final he kicked the winning goal a boost to his self esteem
By his team-mates he was shouldered from the field of play the cheers for him rang loud
And thinking of his glorious hour still makes him feel so proud
And now at night he sits at home with his ageing and forgetful wife
And time is catching up on him one might say such is life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Old Jimmy
With the aid of walking stick he shuffles down the side street and time has left him looking stiff and gray
And truly it can be said of old Jimmy that he is one who has known a better day
Ageless father time takes care of everybody there was a time when he could run quite fast
But now he only can walk at a slow pace and all of his better days are in the past.
He was a football hero in his heyday the best on ground in nineteen forty one
The day that his club played in the Grand Final without him the Premiership could not be won
Close to his prime and in his early twenties on looking back that seems so long ago
It's true that time leaves it's mark on everybody the man who once ran fast now walking slow.
The hard games of football he played in now on him telling he has arthritis in his painful right knee
An injury that forced him into retirement when he was past his prime at thirty three
Back in the forties and fifties he was a football hero but football heroes like the seasons come and go
And that he once was a Grand Final hero is something few young people wish to know.
Old Jimmy slowly shuffles down the side walk a mere shell of the man he used to be
In forty one he starred in the Grand Final when he was near his prime at twenty three
And father time has left his mark on Jimmy and time 'tis said for anyone doesn't wait
And the grim reaper will take the king and pauper and the grim reaper will take the football great.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Boys I Went To School With
We played football in the school yard and we swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow
And the boys I went to school with perhaps now looking gray
And many of them from the Homeland shore like me live far away.
Many of the boys I went to school with and that's going back more than four decades in time
Are now ageing grand fathers and years beyond their prime
And those legs that could move so quickly some forty years ago
Now feeling tired and heavy and their fastest pace is slow.
The boys I went to school with have known a better day
And that time takes care of everyone it would be fair to say
Our young years went too quickly and time just flitted by
And on looking back it seems like only yesterday when I was a school boy.
Some of the boys I went to school with to the grim reaper have gone
But life back in the old Hometown as usual carries on
And in the fields near Millstreet Town where the rank rushes grow
The Finnow on towards Drishane and the Blackwater flow.
Most of the boys I went to school with I have not seen for years
But for my fading memories I don't have any tears
We played football in the school yard and in Summer swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Friends Back In My Prime Years
My friends back in my prime years I never did disown
It's just that I live far from them and apart we have grown
We drank and played football together but our separate ways we've gone
And we have forged new friendships and life of course goes on.
My friends back in my prime years may now look a bit gray
And they might not know me or I might not know them if by chance we met today
In my memory they have remained young but in reality
The years have left their mark on them as the years have left their mark on me.
Old father time the aloof one to anyone doesn't bow
And some of my friends of my prime years may be grand parents now
Perhaps they now are showing their age and time has left them slow
They could run fast as I recall some twenty years ago.
My friends back in my prime years I may now not recognize
For time leaves it's mark on all of us I've come to realize
I drunk beer with them in the pub and with them played football
And that was many years ago as I can well recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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He Was A Big Hero
He has just turned fifty his fastest pace slow
He is not the man he was twenty years ago
When they used to toast him at the local pub
And he was the hero of the football club
But time it did not wait for him time it ticked on
And he can only talk now of his better days gone
When he was his football club's number 1 player
And he could run as fast as a wildborn hare
And though he has such good memories of the past
The Seasons came and went and time went so fast
Whilst yet not an old man his hair is quite gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
Two decades ago when his hair was dark brown
He was a big hero the toast of the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Dying Ex Football Champion
Around his bed his friends and family but of them he's not aware
His life's journey about to end old Joe the ex footballer player
On his back his eyes closed to his surroundings the life from him ebbing away
Last month he celebrated his eightieth birthday and today his life's final day.
Pre-deceased by his wife Mel she died five years ago
The last two years of his life's journey for him painful and slow
Most of those he played with and against in his football years to the Reaper long gone
But like the battler that he is to the end he's battling on.
Fifty five years ago the Captain of the great Premiership team
By football fans from near and far he was held in high esteem
But time takes care of everyone and everyone means all
And time has also taken toll of the champion of football.
Around his bed his friends and family a silent vigil keep
The end of his life's journey no more than an hour away he is in his final sleep
'Tis a fact those who love life do find it hard to die
But 'tis also a fact that all human beings are mortals and facts do never lie.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Yesteryear's Hero
Ten years ago he was a hero a parade for him in the Town
But now he is seen as a has been they built him up and dragged him down
Where are they now when he most needs them him they no longer wish to know
He now is one of the forgotten their hero of a decade ago.
When he kicked the winning goal in the final he done himself and the club proud
The band played for him in his Hometown and the cheering for him it was loud
Alcohol now is the only comfort of a man who was a sporting king
His glory days for him are over his praises they no longer sing.
Some of him say he once was a hero his brown hair is now turning gray
And though only in his mid thirties he has known a far better day
In his honour they had big parties to him their toasting glasses they did raise
But now they have another hero another one that they can praise.
Ten years ago he was a hero when he was in his glorious prime
The Town Councillors sung his praises and the poets by him inspired to rhyme
The goal he kicked for his Club in the final happened to be the winning score
But now he is Yesteryear's hero though he is only thirty four
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Seeing A Photograph
A photo of an ageing face stirs an old memory
He is plainly not a shadow of the man he used to be
His balding head is hoary gray his hair it was dark brown
When we played football as teenagers in the park in our Hometown.
He was a sprightly youth back then two years younger than I
On looking back the decades the years just seemed to fly
He played football worked in the fields and walked miles every day
But like me he seems the worst for wear the years have left us gray.
Perhaps we would be strangers now if by chance we did meet
We might not recognize each other in passing on the street
We age a little every day time of us all takes care
And leaves us looking in the end the very worst for wear.
A photograph of one I knew from many years ago
And he has aged as I have aged time on us all does show
We played football together when we were near to our life's prime
But in the end we all lose out to ageless father time.
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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Their Football Team To Them Important
Their flags and their banners they are waving with joy and excitement they shout
The hero has kicked the winning goal but what are they shouting about
To them it should not really matter 'tis only a game of football
But to them it is very important and their's is the best team of all.
At least that is how they do see it their lives revolves around their team
When their team win a huge boost to their egos and a loss bad for their self esteem
Last week their team lost in a thriller but their loss reduced them to tears
And tonight they will sing their Club song in the Local and celebrate with a few beers.
They look forward to the football Season and they live for the love of the game
And on their bedroom walls a poster sized photograph of their heroes and they know every player by name
Why do they take football so serious they talk about it at work every day
But suppose each of us have our own passions and each to their own one might say.
Their flags and their banners they are waving as proudly they sing their Club song
And they look forward to next weekend's game each day till then for them too long
Their football team to them important their lives revolve around the game
And each time their heroes are defeated the umpires for the loss they will blame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Wish That I Could Have Stayed In My Twenties
Life seemed so good when I was in my twenties
Before time left me looking old and gray
I used to play Soccer and Gaelic football
And I could run and chase the ball all day.
I was never much good at soccer or Gaelic football
Though like many others I too dreamt of fame
But I did not play for esteem and honours
I only played because I loved the game
I wish that I could have stayed in my twenties
Life is much better for those in their prime
But on looking back three decades passed so quickly
And one can't turn back the hands of time.
It has been said that with gray hairs there's wisdom
But as often is the case it isn't so
Some people as they age they grow less tolerant
And they seemed to have more wisdom years ago.
The best years of my life were in my twenties
When I could run and chase the ball all day
And don't tell me that in gray hairs there is wisdom
When it is more of a sign of ageing and decay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cormac Dinneen
They wanted him in Kerry to play with their football team
But Cormac he loved Millstreet and he wore their famous green
And he too wore the red Cork jersey with passion and with pride
A legend in his playing days and he was known far and wide.
I watched him play as a veteran when he was past his prime
Way back in the late fifties some forty years in time
Against one ten years younger he more than held his own
A marvellous defender then one of the finest known.
The Millstreet fans they loved him a player they did revere
He never shirked a challenge a stranger to all fear
He never was found wanting when he was put to the test
And in the Cork County colours he played against the best.
When Millstreet's elder gaelic football fans talk of the Millstreet greats they've seen
A player they always mention is the great Cormac Dinneen
To them he was one of Millstreet's best and they still heap upon him praise
For he was one of their heroes in Millstreet's glory days.
And though time catch up on everyone and the years have made him slow
He was a Cork and Millstreet great some fity years ago
And in forty eight when Millstreet won the County he lived up to his name
As one of Ireland's best defenders then in the Gaelic football game.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Woman Five Doors Down
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted is the best player in the school football team
And that one day he will play in an A.F.L. Grand Final and that more than once of late she's had this dream
Of watching him receive the Coleman medal for best on ground on football's biggest day
Watched by well over ninety thousand people who cheer him on with a loud hip hooray.
But locals who know of football and watched Ted play say he will never play at the top grade
That he won't go down Swanston Street in the back of a lorry
to loud applause in the Grand Final Parade
They say his mother greatly over rates him and that in his team he's just an average player
And that not one in his club will play A.F.L. football with good under age players they do not compare
Ted's mother believes her son will be a football hero and she seemed so convinced that she convinced me
But others who have seen him play say different and with her opinions they do not agree
They say that she will end up disappointed that her dreams for her son will not come true
That he won't make a career out of football another line of work he must pursue.
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted will one day play in the famed M.C.G.
And be the hero of a great Grand Final in a game that will go down in history
And though others seem to think that she's only dreaming I hope her son will be a football great
And that she will applaud him in the Grand Final and the football fans his name will celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Wave From Jimmy Sullivan
A wave from Jimmy Sullivan in Millstreet far away
A nice and spontaneous gesture that did help to make my day
From Clara road one must presume in view of Clara hill
It brought back the old memories as if time had stood still.
When we played Soccer and Gaelic football some twenty years ago
Though our old legs ageing back then nowadays are far more slow
But Jimmy looking fit and well despite the march of time
He was a quick and elusive player when he was in his prime.
One of those lucky people who has a sense of place
In Millstreet Town and Parish his is a well known face
He never will leave Millstreet in Millstreet he will stay
And in his beloved Town of Millstreet he will grow old and gray.
From life i do feel hardened and i feel too old for tears
But that wave from Jimmy Sullivan it took me back the years
To when we were young and fitter and we chased the ball around
In the Inch field at Claraghatlea back then our football ground.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dan Leary
Dan Leary hard man of Millstreet Gaelic Football
He was a fearless fellow on his day
He took and gave some hard bone crunching tackles
And from a challenge never backed away.
Dan Leary was a hero of my childhood
And a hero in the Millstreet green and gold
And about his bravery on the Gaelic playing fields
Some quite amazing stories have been told.
I often saw Dan Leary play for Millstreet
In summer when the roses were in bloom
Against the better club teams in Cork County
In venues such as Coachford and Macroom.
When Millstreet were a force in Gaelic football
On looking back that seems so long ago
The heroes of my childhood years are ageing
And father time has left them gray and slow.
Dan Leary's sprightly younger brother Willie
A Gaelic footballer one never could forget
Twice in a Munster final in Killarney
Rasping shots from his boot bulged the Kerry net.
Long years ago when I was a young fellow
Four decades back and that's a lengthy span
Dan Leary played at corner back for Millstreet
And in his prime he was a fearless man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Wonder How A Man
I wonder how a man should behave towards his wife
Should he love her till he draw his last breath of life
And agree with everything that she has to say
And tell her he loves her many times a day?
Or spend far more time with his mates at the pub
Discussing the welfare of the football club
And leave his wife at home of their children to take care?
The ideal sort of husband to say the least rare.
In the company of men I have spent too much time
Played football, worked and drunk alcohol with them back in my life's prime
To females us males are of different kind
To every good man ten good women you'll find.
Respect to all women all men ought to show
But how a man should behave towards his woman I hardly would know
Since I have never been known as a ladies man
And I'm now in the Autumn years of my life's span.
poem by Francis Duggan
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William Leary
William Leary is one of the famed Learys of Millstreet a Cork and Duhallow legend of the Gaelic Football game
He played football for Cork and his Club Millstreet and is now in the Duhallow sporting Hall of Fame
He once scored two goals in a Munster Final in Killarney a feat that is still talked of today
In his Gaelic Football career a remembered highlight though many great games the great one did play.
William Leary in his prime a dashing forward one of the great footballers of Millstreet
He proved a headache for opposing defenders with his ball skills he was so quick on his feet
And off of the field of play a successful business person beyond Millstreet known and liked far and wide
To his family and his many friends around Duhallow his many achievements are a sense of pride.
William Leary is now in his early seventies it has been some time since he has played football
One of the great Gaelic Footballers of Millstreet as those who watched him play can well recall
It has been four decades and a few years and that is looking back in time
When he cheered Millstreet hearts with his marvellous ball skills he was a speedy fellow in his prime.
Good to see him with his wife and family on the Millstreet web site on his induction into Duhallow's Hall of Fame
With honour he wore the Cork and Millstreet Jerseys and with honour he carries the famous Leary name
I watched him play when i was a young fellow and that is going back many years ago
He was a dashing forward in his prime years the one who left speedy defenders looking slow.
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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Yesterday's Hero
The news became big news and travelled far and wide
That the great sporting hero had suddenly died
He was buried with honours and at his graveside
The club President spoke of one who brought honour and pride
As Captain of the club some five decades ago
When he was the one everyone wished to know
In the football final he inspired the team
To bring to reality what had been a dream
He served up a marvellous footballing display
And in the Club's greatest victory he was man of the day
But time left him gray and the years left him slow
The one who was hero five decades ago
And on leaving the graveyard a young boy to his father did say
It was yesterday's hero they buried today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Eddie O Mahony
He never more will walk in the Town of Millstreet in St Mary's cemetery at peace he lay
Perhaps in his mid forties to his early fifties he did die young and it would be fair to say
Of him that he was really a nice person he made so many friends along life's way
And one day his lot it will be our lot as for each of us there is a final day.
In his younger years Eddie O Mahony played Soccer and Gaelic Football in Brian Sullivan's Mal Paso pub he was well known
His family and his many friends will mourn him and Murphy's Terrace and Millstreet Town has lost one of it's own
He seemed so young for to go to the reaper but suppose he was not meant for to grow old
But in the Mal Paso pub his old mates will recall him when stories of the good days will be told.
A youngish man he had so much to live for he did not live for to die as an old man
The reaper takes the young and old and ageing though short in time is the longest life span
One can only hope for Eddie that his end was peaceful that at his end he did not suffer pain
He was well known and well liked around Millstreet and with those who knew him good memories of him will remain.
Pre-deceased by his beloved father Dan O, Eddie is one his friends always will recall
In his younger years as i can well remember he played Sports, Soccer and Gaelic Football
He died as a young enough man that seems so sad of years he did not even reach three score
And he will be sadly missed from the Mal Paso and may he rest in peace forever more.
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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