For Many Years

For many years i have been a rhyming buff
And i am one who has penned heaps of rhyming stuff
But i must be addictive to pen rhymes every day
Since for doing it i never receive money as pay
But i am one who loves rhyming and as a rhymer i will stay
Though some tell me that i ought to give it away
If i said i would quit rhyming this would be a lie
And i hope to be doing it till the day i die
I am just one of many who enjoys penning rhyme
And doing it to me is never a waste of time
As a fellow of rhyme to some i have become known
But then suppose we all do have ways of our own
I do enjoy rhyming and as a rhymer i will stay
And i hope to be doing it till my last night and day.

By The Northern Mountains

From the overnight frost the old fields looking gray
It is cold by the mountains from here far away
In the farm sheds the cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
In the silent dawn of a December day

The migratory redwing thrushes are chirping on the bare hedgerow
And the harsh though familiar caws of the silver back crow
Floats across the quiet fields in the cold morning breeze
In weather temperatures quite close to the zero degrees

At a time of year when grass does not grow
The old hill is wearing it's white hat of snow
And the worst of the Winter with each dawn draws near
December in the north is a cold and wet time of year

Quite close to four months from the early Spring
When the wildborn nesting birds whistle and sing
Brown storm water flowing in the roadside drain
And the river bank high from recent heavy rain

The first of December dawns with a cold chill
And a wintery breeze blows across the hill
From the overnight frost the old fields looking gray
By the northern mountains from here far away.

Victoria State Election Night 2014

The Liberal-National Government of Victoria led by Premier Denis Napthine the State Election has lost
Suppose all good things in life for all who receive them eventually come at some cost
Daniel Andrews and the Labor Party and their supporters are celebrating tonight
In politics as in all things in life for the losers dejection and for the winners delight
The winners are celebrating and dancing on the street
And there is joy tonight where the Labor Party faithful meet
In pubs and clubs across Victoria on Labor's great victory
On a night that will live on for them in memory
Four years ago on Victoria State Election night the Liberal- National supporters were cheering loud
They had won bragging rights and felt happy and proud
The elation of victory is such a joyful thing
The winners do laugh and the winners do sing
For the Victorian Labor Party quite a memorable night
And their loyal supporters are cheering in delight.

I Am Not A Bad Person

I am not a bad person though in my ways a bit odd
And i do not have much money and i do not have a god
As many in the World do for to kneel to and pray
Call me an agnostic or an atheist or call me what you may

I am not a bad person though a bit ordinary maybe
There are many far better and far worse than me
But from living i learn something new every day
We do never stop learning as some do like to say

Over time i have made a few friends and i have made a few foes
But life is this way one must have to suppose
Into my late sixties my prime days long gone
And though i find life a battle i keep living on

Though for my years as success goes i have nothing to show
I am not a bad person this much of myself i do know
The one who is in need of helping i do help if i can
Though not one of life's successes i am not a bad man.

A Comfortable Home To Live In

A comfortable home to live in and enough to eat and drink is all anyone need
And having this said the unhappy billionaire is a poor one indeed
The happy go lucky their needs in life small
There is truth in the saying one cannot have it all
The praises of millionaire celebrities the masses may sing
If your money could buy you happiness then that would be everything
But that money cannot buy you happiness remains ever true
The super rich person worry becomes his due
To be a known billionaire his claim to renown
But he is never seen to smile the wealthiest man of the town
Of business worries he surely does harbour quite a share
I do not envy him his money the super rich billionaire
A comfortable home to live in and enough to eat and drink is all anyone does need
And the unhappy billionaire is a poor one indeed.

Dan Gould

I remember Dan Gould as an ageing man
He was then in the twilight of his lifetime span
He lived near Millstreet Town up the Cloghoula way
The passing of time had left him looking gray

He was a great road bowler in his life's prime
One of the best in Cork and Ireland going way back in time
Till the biological clock did become his foe
He lived his last day many Seasons ago

A tall athletically built fellow unconceited by fame
Dan Gould O Sullivan was his real name
His road bowling days never heard him talk about
Though of his greatness ageing bowling fans never left me in doubt

To talk of his road bowling wins was not his thing
He left it to others his praises to sing
Though he had competed against and had often beaten the road bowling best
And was never found to be wanting when put to the test

Tall and athletic in his prime a man amongst road bowling men
At the big bowl scores he was the one to beat then
The Pride of Cloghoula near old Millstreet Town
To be a great road bowler his claim to renown.

We Are Only Mere Mortals

We are only mere mortals why otherwise pretend
Like all other life forms for us there is an end
Whatever we achieve in life we are born to die
The same for the celebrity as for you and i
Yes we are air breathing mortals that and little else more
Only a minority of human beings of years reach and live beyond the four score
Though the lifetime achievements of a minority in their legacy for centuries live on
Being remembered is of little use to those amongst the forever gone
The wealthy just like the poor to the life's reaper's scythe fall
Life's journey does end for the great and the small
It is a fact of life and fact does not lie
That we are born as mortals and mortals do die
And since time has left me looking older and gray
Every dawn brings me nearer to my last night and day.

Of Their Love Of Their Country

Of their love of their Country so many do brag
And with pride they do wave their national flag
But nationalism and patriotism to war often does lead
Stories of war heroes many like to hear of and read
With pride and gusto your country's national anthem you well may sing
But of your true love of your country this does not tell us a thing
Flag waving and public shows of patriotism of you only does say
That you are arrogant and warlike in your egotistical way
Non flag waving and peaceful people love their country too
And may be more so in their own quiet way than one such as you
Who of your professed love of country put on a public show
By your flag waving you like to leave the World Know
Of how patriotic and marvellous a person you happen to be
Though you do have a huge ego it does seem to me.

Of Those Who Do Not Trust Anyone

Of those who do not trust anyone it would be fair to suppose
That in their own thinking they surround themselves with foes
For if on the trustworthiness of anyone you do not believe
Then mistrust in return is all that you can expect to receive
For trust is a thing to it that has more than one side
And you cannot expect trust of one who of your trust you have denied
This is how it works and how it always will be
How can i trust one who only mistrusts me?
Since on your every business transaction your signature must be on a legal document it does seem fair to say
That your word is not considered to be your honour in the World of today
In a human World of trust for legal documents there would not be any need
That your word is no longer considered to be your honour seems so sad indeed
If in the trustworthiness of anyone you do not believe
Then trust in return do not expect to receive.

In The Quiet Old Cemetery

In the quiet old cemetery in view of the hill
The silence profound in the wintery chill
Where the bones of the long deceased ancestors of the locals lay
Though their influences live on in their descendants today

From generation to generation of locals their beliefs passed down
Their influences it would seem did not die with them in the town
It must be in the d n a that old beliefs live on
For since they lived many decades in time have gone

They went off to war when they were fit and young
And the praises of war heroes by them were sung
And as war veterans they wore their war medals at every war parade
Through the generations the gene of patriotism it never does fade

For god and flag and country was their battle cry
And that their influence was great none ought to deny
Their descendants today wave the national flag
And when their national team win an important international game of their superiority they brag

Many years ago from the cares of living death gave them release
And in the cemetery by the hill their bones are at peace
But their influences it does seem with them did not die
To say otherwise would be stating a lie.

The Social Gap Widening

The social gap widening it does seem this way
And for many life is a battle every day
Millions of people are homeless and hungry tonight
Survival for them it is an uphill fight
The stories of winners we only hear of and read about
And of the the opportunity of the betterment of self and of family many are being shut out
The most of the assets and the money in the World is owned by the greedy few
To this you may well say tell us what is new
The numbers of Homeless people every day multiply
And why many from the poor side of town do end up in prison no need to ask why
To appease their addiction for drugs they turn to crime
And many in prison spend their physical prime
The social gap has never been as wide before
And every day it widens a little bit more.

On Millstreet's Munster Semi Final Loss To Brosna

To lose to Kerry's best with honour in any grade of gaelic football is never a disgrace
And though for Millstreet in the Munster junior club final there will not be a place
Their fans and players will remember the year of twenty fourteen
For it was a great year for the gold and the green

A Duhallow and a Cork County Championship in any grade of gaelic football
One can say in gaelic games for any club a good year over-all
And though in the Munster semi final to Brosna by five points they went down
They have brought some sporting honour to old Millstreet Town

And though a sporting success can be good for a town's esteem
Sport can be a diversion from the reality of living it does seem
But suppose in Ireland with many out of work and the economy not doing well of late
People do need something in their lives for to celebrate

And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose
In sports as in life for one for to win someone else has to lose
Though Millstreet did not go down without a fight we are told
Which does bring back memories of the Millstreet of old

A five point win to Brosna over Millstreet in Brosna did not leave any room for doubt
That the far better team on the day did win out
But for the Millstreet Club in gaelic football it was a memorable year
And one does have a feeling that of more of them we will hear.

Koroit

For a visitor it is a welcoming place
In Koroit in Victoria many a friendly face
With strong links to Indigenous and Irish cultures it's great claims to renown
Koroit in south west Victoria is a welcoming town
A coastal rural small town that has visitors every day
To be welcoming to strangers is the Koroit way
In a beautiful part of south west Victoria's coastal countryside
Koroit an old town that is known far and wide
As a town of nice people with a charm of it's own
For all of the right reasons it is quite well known
Tower Hill of the Budj Bim from Koroit just a few kilometers away
With links to the people of the Dreamtime that has visitors every day
On the road to Warrnambool in the Moyne Shire
Of singing the praises of Koroit one never could tire.

Old Jimmy

Old Jimmy the wise fellow once said to me
You only can be the best that you can be
He is even quite wise for one of eighty three
The town's wisest wise elder as most would agree
You may be found wanting when put to the test
But as Jimmy does say at least you tried your best
And though losing is something anyone does not choose
For one for to win someone else has to lose
Last year to cancer Jimmy lost Annie his beloved wife
For fifty four years his soulmate in life
A grandfather ten times of him one can say
That he is one who learns from life every day
And when he says you only can be the best you can be
With him on this i can only agree.

I Used To Believe

I used to believe if i prayed at Tubrid's Holy Well
That it would save me from the hot fires of hell
But i was quite young and quite naive back then
And sometimes innocent boys grow into cynical men
All religious belief i have given away
But am i any better off for this today?
Since the faith i was born into by me has been lost
And everything that we lose in life to us comes at some cost
But good memories of Tubrid with me does remain
And when i go home to Millstreet i will visit there again
Though this time it will not be to kneel at the grotto to pray
Since religion is a thing that is not with me today
But just to drink a few cups of water from Tubrid's clear spring
For anyone's health that would be a good thing.

That Time Is Our Master

The time on our lives ever ticking away
The best footballer in the town ten years ago is not so today
At thirty seven a veteran member of the town's football team
Of late he has been running out of steam
The years on his body beginning to show
Once the club's fastest but compared to the fastest now slow
Yes eventually time becomes everyone's foe
He is not the man he was ten years ago
That age slows the best of them is true indeed
With the passing of the Seasons he has lost some of his speed
Nowadays he does struggle when put to the test
One ten years younger than him is now the club's best
Though the deeds of greatness with the body does not die
That time is our master it is not a lie.

Why Tell Me About It

Why tell me about it since i know all too well
That i am not the only one who pens doggerel
There are many like me to be found everywhere
In every village, town and city in the big World out there

Who is a good poet or what is a good poem why do you ask me
Since i am one who does not have a literary degree
Though i am one who has had a liking for rhyme
Since i was a young man going way back in time

And who could not feel inspired to rhyme on this warm Spring day
Wafting in the breeze from the nearby paddocks the sweet scent of freshly mown hay
On a forecast high for the day of twenty three degrees
The pleasant though familiar song of the blackbird is carrying in the breeze

And the flute like songs of the magpies melodious and clear
The birds who do sing every day of the year
Most birds once familiarized with one cannot get wrong
They become recognizable by their chirping or song

The weather is warm and breezy and bright
And white butterflies seemingly dancing in the sunlight
And dark welcome swallows chirping as they fly
On pursuit of flying insects across the blue sky

The first of the calendar Summer is just nine sleeps away
From this beautiful and bright November Spring day
The warm air is full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
With a temperature high of twenty three degrees.

They Do Not know

They do not know what it feels like to be financially down
Like the poverty stricken battlers of the poor side of the town
And they never had to try to sleep hungry at night
On a park bench under a wintery sky in the faint starlight
With their wealthy mates in expensive restaurants they do dine
And they only do drink the most expensive wine
And for the poor of the town one thought they do not even spare
They believe that their money is for them for to keep and not for to share
And they believe that their good fortune in life is only their due
And that in life some must lose for others to win they believe to be true
And that those who are poor for how they live have only themselves to blame
Lack of empathy and unkindness in ways much the same
And since where they live poor people they never do meet
What would they know about life on Poverty Street?

Just A Love Hobby

By the judgmental dismissed as a failure but this in itself is not a crime
And close to the twilight of my existence and near four decades past my life's prime
I own to it that i am a flawed person addicted to the penning of rhyme
But i admit to finding it quite enjoyable doing what most does see as a waste of time
I believe that we all eventually are failures since we all eventually die
The fact is we are all physically born as mortals and fact as we do know never lie
To the hopes of a better tomorrow like many do i too do cling
But meanwhile i will go on with living and carry on doing my own thing
I know i have to be addictive for to keep on rhyming every day
Yet it is something i enjoy doing so why should i give it away
In a Human world where money is most important to be short of it not good at all
And though i will never be wealthy and famous my biggest worry compared to the worries of some does seem small
And i will keep on doing what i enjoy doing adding to my numbers of rhymes every day
Though for me it is just a love hobby far too hard for to give away.

We Are The Migrants Of Duhallow

We are the migrants of Duhallow from our first homes far away
In Britain and Countries of Europe, South America, Canada and the U S of A
Australia, New Zealand and Asia and Countries in Africa as well
Of our journeys that took us from Ireland we have our own stories to tell

We are the migrants of Duhallow from Kilcorney, Nad and Boherbue
Rockchapel, Meelin and Newmarket and Dromtarriffe and Derrinagree
And Lyre, Banteer and Castlemagner, Kilbrin and Freemount of music and song
We may live far from the shores of Hibernia but our bond to Duhallow remains strong

We are the migrants of Duhallow of Tullylease, Kanturk and Millstreet
In every City of the World one of us you are likely to meet
Of Ballydesmond, Kiskeam and Rathcoole and Cullen and high Knocknagree
With wonderful views of Sliabh Luachra into east Kerry beyond Rathmore far as the eyes do see

For us the migrants of Duhallow it should not be hard to understand
That we do love our first homeplaces even more than we love Cork and Ireland
The accent that we were born into on our journeys with us came along
And though we live far from the Boggeraghs our links to the past remains strong.

The City Raised Young Man

In a town where he is not made to feel welcome
And not trusted by anyone and disliked by some
Where even if he does become better known
He will never be referred to as one of our own
His work contract due to end in early May
And in the country town he will not settle and stay
Where he knows that his would remain as a stranger's face
The city raised young man does feel out of place
The nearest surf beach from where he now lives for him seems too far
At least a six hour return journey by car
From his urban home the ocean a short drive away
Where on the city surf beach he did surf every day
Home is where the heart is as some like to say
And his home from here by car five hours away.

On A Comment On The Millstreet Web Site

Though from Millstreet my first homeplace i live far away
I visit there online a few times a day
It was there i was born and raised and went to school
Far north of where i now live Koroit near Warrnambool

And though each to their own is how it seems to be
One comment on the Millstreet Web Site of late does not go well with me
One John O Sullivan the praises of the unnecessary removal of conifer trees from the Millstreet Town Park does sing
Even a verbal attack on Nature is not a good thing

I do stand by fact since fact does not lie
When their trees are removed sedentary wildlife doomed to die
They fear their territorial neighbours and from predators have nowhere to hide
Due to tree removal millions of tree dwelling birds and animals have died Worldwide

I live in a landscape that is quite scarce on trees
And in Summer temperatutes of often close to forty degrees
Even for farm animals without adult trees as shade from the sun
Life can be tough and never much fun

In tropical rainforests unsuitable for farming which is obviously clear
By slash and burn farmers of the Amazon millions of trees removed every year
Land that in it's suitability for agriculture does have a short span
In a time of Climate Change the World's worst enemy is man

Though i have not been in the Millstreet Town Park for many a day
As far as i recall of the games area those conifer trees were not in the way
The wanton destruction of their habitat for wildlife huge problems create
And on the unnecessary removal of adult trees what is to celebrate?

Nature The Immortal

Long after i have lived my very last Spring
The wild birds of Nature will whistle and sing
And skylark a musical speck in the sky
With trembling wings will sing as he fly
Time that rusts iron does weaken the strong
And the longest lived human life in time is not long
And like all of Nature's life forms us humans are born to die
The same for the billionaire celebrity as for you and i
The Seasons of Nature do come and do go
And time as we know becomes everyone's foe
And many of the greats of human history to and from life have come and gone
But Nature the immortal as ever lives on
Time on my life ever ticking away
And for me like all of Nature's life forms a last night and day.

From Those Who Admire You

From those who admire you and your praises do sing
About yourself you never learn anything
But those who criticize you in a constructive way
Can help you to improve as a person if you heed of what you they do say
But for most of us our egos are bigger than ourselves 'twould appear
Since only the nice things of self from others most wish to hear
And they are not scarce and not hard to find
The World is not short of the self absorbed kind
Even the most humble have egos is how it seems to be
But when the ego outgrows the head it is in it does seem to me
That the owner of the ego becomes egotistical and even the mildest of constructive criticism cannot bear
And sad to think that such people are no longer rare
And it is true from those who admire you and your praises do sing
About yourself you never do learn anything.

On A Photograph Of Jedder

An old tattered photograph of her is all that with me does remain
And in real life i never will see her again
I remember at her death i was reduced to tears
Old Jedder my canine friend for eleven years
The black and white border collie x blue heeler cross loved to play fetch stick or ball
She did not demand much out of life at all
Jedder to me was a devoted friend
And she was true to me till her life's journey's end
A man in time may lose the love of his wife
But your dog is your friend for the term of your life
And Jedder to me was a devoted friend
And she was true to me till her life's journey's end
For her friendship of me she did not ask much at all
Just two feeds a day and a short game of fetch stick or ball.

Most Migrants

Most migrants have a place they refer to as home
For the Athenian it is Athens for the Roman it is Rome
Home is where the heart is as the wise one does say
And home to many is not where they live but their first home far away
We live in the present but our memories are of the past
And time on our lives ever ticking on fast
And all of our lives are journeys that do have an end
Physically we cannot live forever of this why even pretend
Most migrants in their lives nostalgia have known
But in time by them such feelings are outgrown
For self betterment or adventure or some other challenge to face
Or for some other reason we left our first homeplace
That most migrants have a place they refer to as home is how it seems to be
And Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town remains home to me.

On Such A Nice Day

A blackbird is singing on a sunlit leafy tree
Him i know by his voice though him i do not see
And the warbling flute like notes ever pleasant to hear
Of the magpies who sing every day of the year
Off of the window sills goldfinches collecting spider silk for their nest
Amongst the late nesters of Spring in Victoria's south west
Mid November the southern calendar Summer just two weeks away
And weatherwise this so far has been a changeable day
With brief spells of sunshine and a cool freshening breeze
And a temperature high of eighteen degrees
Once heard and once seen birds one cannot get wrong
The gray shrike thrushes known for their beautiful whistling song
Not too warm or too cool and pleasant in every way
How good to be living on such a nice day.

Of Any Success In Life

Of any successes in life i do not have for to tell
I am just one of many who pen doggerel
With words i am one who does like to play
And i add to my numbers of rhymes every day

Just something i enjoy doing and little else more
This is something you may have heard me say before
I have been penning stuff since in my life's prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time

And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
Never shortage of things for me to write about
To write rhymes is easy as easy as can be
At least anyway this is how it seems to me

From the place of the badger and the brown river trout
The rhyming addiction has followed me south
Though of this i am not proud i can assure you
It is something i just feel compelled for to do

The years have left me looking weary and gray
And i have given thought of giving rhyming away
But the voice in my mind to me always does say
Old Francis you have to pen more rhymes today

For doggerel for years i have carried the flag
But this is something not worthy of a brag
And perhaps my addiction will be with me till the day i die
If i did tell you different this would be a lie.

Nature

Her four Seasons beautiful though different Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring
Of the beauty of Nature i feel happy to sing
Everywhere i turn to look her natural greenery i do see
Every day of the year it is all around me
To creativity the writers and artists she does inspire
So much natural beauty in Nature for one to admire
Sister to Mother Earth whose life forms including humans she does feed
Mother Earth and Nature for our survival we do need
In truth i can say i have loved her since i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
And of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way
Immortality for humans is surely a lie
But she is immortal and will never die.

In Koroit In November

In the blue sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
And the lately mown paddocks scenting sweetly of hay
And children in the park laughing at their play
In Koroit on this pleasant November day
With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly
The welcome swallows devour flying insects in the sky
After recent Spring showers the parks and paddocks lush and green
And beautiful wildflowers in full bloom plentiful to be seen
The warm air is full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
And the nesting birds singing on bushes and trees
White butterflies dancing in the freshening breeze
On a pleasant day of around twenty degrees
And the breeze in the leaves of the trees such a beautiful sound
In Koroit in November Nature's beauty abound.

Oh Pity You

Oh pity you for worries of you do know
For like noxious weeds they only do grow and grow
And to cancer they have been known for to lead
Of such sad stories one so often does read
The town's wealthiest man he recently died
Tragically for his wife and young children of suicide
On his thirty second year in his life's prime
He did not wait for the life's Reaper on his existence for to call time
Worries about his business had been plaguing his mind
A not unusual problem of the millionaire kind
For his great financial successes with his life he did pay
Most thing come at a cost as some are known to say
The town's richest man he is at peace today
Out of his great unhappiness he found a way.

Not For

Not for money or for fame
Or to make for myself a name
That i pen rhymes every day
Though for me once never a hooray
Time has become a foe to me
Since i penned my first rhyme in seventy three
And since then many days to time have gone
But for love of rhyming i rhyme on
Without the reward of monetary pay
Some to me do even say
That it is time i ought to call it a day
And give penning of rhyme away
But since to rhyme in me there is the need
To their advice i pay no heed.

It Will Not Matter To Me

It will not matter to me when i have lived my last night and day
If my last remains in a dark earthy grave lay
Or in a creamtorium to ashes does burn
Either way to the Earth i belong to i am destined to return
Many people worship their god in prayer and in song
But we are creatures of Nature and to her we belong
Though many in my thinking on this i feel sure would disagree
This is how anyway is how it seems to me
My views on this many would say are all wrong
But i do believe like all other life forms to Nature i belong
To Mother Earth who clothes and feeds me i will return to one day
But on such a subject many different views it would be fair to say
Like every other life form i was born to die
This is a fact of life and fact does not lie.

On My Country

When Indigenous Australians talk of My Country they are talking of their homeplace
And not of greater Australia but the countryside of their ancestral race
Indigenous people have a sense of belonging and their bond to place it is strong
Their ancestors did not believe in land ownership since they felt to the land they belong
The land taken from their ancestors that is known as Australia today
But that they remain as the first Australians from them cannot be taken away
Like all tribal people they have a strong bond to Country and to the ways of their tribe they are true
And they will always be the first Australians by birthright this remains their due
When an Indigenous Australian says welcome to My Country he or she means welcome to my home countryside
For they are a people true to place and in their cultural ways they take pride
They are the children of the Dreamtime the first of this southern Land
That they are devoted to place and to family should not be hard to understand
And when they say welcome to Country in truth they mean welcome to our homeplace
And they love their own parts of Australia Down Under's first and oldest Race.

In Millstreet Country Park Today

Across Bill Pad's mountain steal the fog rains of gray
It is cold by old Mushera on this November day
No song of brown mottled birds pipit or lark
At this time of year in Millstreet Country Park

Since it became Millstreet Country Park i have never been there
My journey in life did take me to elsewhere
But i harbour good memories of Mushera in Spring
When high above the bracken the skylark does sing

To fill the silent mountain with song as he fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky
On a calm and a beautiful evening in May
Good memories live on as the wise one does say

Millstreet Country Park by old Mushera in the high countryside
In Spring to Summer and early Autumn a tourist attraction for people Worldwide
Visitors of every Nationality and every Race
Leave with good memories of what is a beautiful place

Across Bill Pad's mountain steal the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water flowing in every stream and drain
At least six months from the prime of Spring in May
The entrance gate closed in Millstreet Country Park today.

The God I Believe In

Of any religious beliefs i am one who is free
The god i believe in is living in me
And in you and in every other person who believes in live and let live in the World everywhere
There is no evidence of any god in the great Universe up there
I do know like many others i am not free of sin
But it is hard not to be cynical in a World where many must lose for a few for to win
Many not receiving the financial rewards from life that they are due
But if to your higher self you remain ever true
And be honest in your dealings with others in every way
Then to an unseen god why should you kneel to pray
Since you are one who believes in live and let live
You are one who does not have big sins to forgive
And though you may not be one completely free of sin
You are one who does nurture your god within.

Loneliness

Loneliness does not have a home it does live everywhere
And so many lonely people in the big World out there
The man living on his own in his seventies grieving for his recently deceased wife
He has got to know loneliness since it has entered his life
The homeless and hungry teenagers of the street
At a young age their life's greatest challenges they do meet
Loneliness to them it is nothing new
Without money that gives status your friends in the few
You need not be wise or clever a genius or a sage
To know that loneliness to it does not have an age
The difference between it and contentment and happiness is obviously clear
When loneliness is with you these two to you not anywhere near
Where loneliness is for joy there is no place
And the one who lives with it lives with a sad face.

Something Great

As a young man i was not any good at hurling or gaelic football
And at athletics and soccer i was no use at all
But everybody is good at something as the wise one does say
Perhaps i may find out at what i am good at one day
That everyone is good at something is arguably true
And in life we all have our own dreams to pursue
And some never achieve in life what they wish to achieve
For many what they most desire for they never receive
And success is relative as many would agree
You can only be the best that you can be
You may never become the hero of the town
But if you are willing to help one who is financially down
A better World for to live in you are helping to create
And you are one who has achieved something great.

Polar Bears Are Irish

One brown female bear in Ireland who mated with a white bear is the maternal ancestor of the polar bears of today
And though they now live in the Arctic from their ancestral homeland far away
The famous scientists and genetic experts Mark Thomas and Beth Shapiro from skeletal remains their original ancestor did trace
To Ireland in the north Atlantic as their original homeplace

At the end of the ice age they left Ireland and retreated north with the ice
Forced to leave their ancestral homeland for them not any other choice
Climate Change in it's many forms has been happening for centuries far longer than anyone seem to know
The white bear a creature of cold climates to survive needs the ice and the snow

The white bears do seem in trouble since the polar ice caps are melting fast
In a century from now in an ice free Arctic marine bears will be of the past
The Arctic is their last stronghold from there for them nowhere to go
To for them to insure their survival the warming climate is nowadays their fatal foe

The mighty white bears of the Arctic that have inspired story and rhyme
Retreated at the end of the ice age to follow the ice out of Ireland going back thousands of centuries in time
They may be creatures of the cold north where on the sea ice they range free
But scientists claim polar bears are Irish as Irish as Irish can be.

You May Not Be

You may not be the heir to the queen and the king
And your praises the masses they never may sing
Or you may never own, drive or be driven in an expensive car
But this does not tell us of the person you are
You may never be hailed a hero of the town
For you in life never such widespread renown
Yet you never fail to give credit to where it is due
And to your higher self you remain ever true
And every day you do plant Karma's good seed
By helping anyone of helping in need
Without expecting the reward of financial pay
And look on it as your good deed of the day
These things as a person say more about you
Than all of the honours and titles can do.

Old Johnny

Though as a person in a class of his own
A quiet sort of a fellow to many not known
Not seen to be worthy of any sort of renown
Yet old Johnny by far the wisest one in the town
He does not have a partner or he does not have a wife
Or any offspring as such for him to talk of and worry about in his life
He does not go to the local pub to socialize
But on talking to him one does realize
That he is not what is known as your average man
One who has learned much from life in his eight decades time span
Surely the wise elder of his side of the town
Though a wise person dies as a stranger to renown
Old Johnny does never have that much to say
But he learns from listening to others every day.

Utopia From Koroit

A beautiful evening of sunshine and breeze
With the weather temperatures of a pleasant twenty degrees
And the warm air full of the buzzings of flies and of bees
And the nesting birds singing on bushes and trees
In the southern November a green and lovely time of year
The Spring on it's last weeks and Summer is near
In their playground in the park the children laugh at their play
It is so good to be living on such a nice day
Looking beautiful and green after recent Spring showers
The park quite resplendent in it's Nature's wildflowers
In the blue sunny sky just a few clouds of gray
And wafting in the breeze the pleasant aroma of freshly mown hay
From the paddocks nearby on this November day
Utopia from Koroit cannot be far away.

Going Out Of Fashion

In a Human World that is tinged with joy and sorrow
For some of us there may not be a tomorrow
For death to us all does come sooner or later
Than the greatest human the Reaper of lives far greater

In a World where millions every day for success are competing
In every workplace and every work board meeting
A dying thing indeed the thing known as compassion
In the twenty first century it is going out of fashion

Of social inequality for future generations of people there is nothing surer
As the rich are getting richer and the poor getting poorer
Spiritually bankrupt indeed are those who cannot feel any pity
For the poor of the village, the town or the city

The people who help the poor i feel are worth admiring
Of them one can say that they are truly inspiring
In a Human World where many do lack in compassion
And kindness does seem to be going out of fashion.

Far North Of Koroit

Far north of Koroit my life's journey began
In Claraghatlea near Millstreet Town where i grew into a man
And a long way from here to Hibernia's shore
In distance by sky eighteen thousand kilometers or more

Yet in my visualizations i do see again
The Boggeraghs hills in their gray fogs of rain
In early November when the cold freshening breeze
Is blowing the last leaves off of the deciduous trees

And not hard to imagine the mildness of Spring
When the wildborn nesting songbirds do whistle and sing
And the old fields lush and green after recent mild April showers
Are looking resplendent in their Nature's flowers

And cattle out of wintering sheds on months of silage and hay
On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day
The past in my memory has come south with me
And in my flights of fancy great beauty i do see

But the now is what matters and the past it has gone
And time keeps on passing and life does go on
And only the memories with me do remain
Of what used to be but will not be again.

Like Every Other Life Form

Like every other life form us humans born to die
This is one of the facts of life though i wish it were a lie
On how long anyone does live there is no guarantee
The oldest person i have ever known died at one hundred and three
All she had gone to school with the life from them long gone
But she clung to life right to the end she wanted to live on
Few do live to be this old but it does seem a strange thing
That those who honour dead heroes to life themselves do cling
But it is not how old you live to be but how well you do live
And the happiest people in the World are those willing to give
Support to those in need of it and in return they receive
A sense of joy in their acts of kindness on this i do believe
We are all on a life journey that does come to an end
Like every other life form why otherwise pretend.

So Many Of Life

So many of life have sad stories to tell
Homeless and hungry in their earthly hell
Life's toughest challenges at a young age every day they do meet
Without any money on poverty street
Their parents for serious offences are serving jail time
It was financial poverty that led them to crime
Their children to follow in their footsteps fast
The sinners of the future have their source in the past
Only the compassionate the praises of poor people sing
And poverty can be a relative thing
Yes poverty does come in varying degrees
From the homeless of poverty street to the climate and war refugees
That millions of people do not have life choices is a fact one cannot deny
In a World where a fair go in life to all does not apply.

Harry Coher

Harry Coher was a legendary athlete
Against Ireland's best with success he did compete
As the wild mountain hare is quite as fleet
The first of the great cross country runners of Millstreet

Old memories remain as a source of joy
By old timers i heard many stories of him as a boy
As children they remembered Harry Coher in his prime
He was indeed a legend of his time

But unwritten memories tend to fade away
And few in Millstreet would have heard of him today
And more the pity indeed this does seem
For in in his time he was one held in high esteem

By athletic fans far beyond the borders of Duhallow's countryside
As he was one who competed with pride
For Millstreet and the famous green and gold
I only tell it as i heard it told

By aged men who were going back in time
To when they were boys and Harry Coher was in his prime
Aged men long deceased and time has become my foe
For this is going back sixty years ago

By all accounts a legendary athlete
One in his prime the pride of old Millstreet
As a boy by old men one i heard talked about
And of his greatness i was never left in any doubt.

Warrnambool People

Their unrivalled charm is their great claim to renown
The hospitable natives of old Warrnambool Town
For it's friendly and down to earth people Warrnambool widely known
One can say of them in a class of their own
I am not telling you anything that is new
When i say that in Warrnambool unfriendly people are few
In the Capital of south west Victoria many a smiling face
They do make their City quite a welcoming place
A multicultural place is old Warrnambool Town
With all shades of people there black, white and brown
It is a safe home for many a boat refugee
In a City where people live in harmony
For their hospitality and warmth Warrnambool people are widely known
One can say of them in a class of their own.

For Winners And Losers

In a World where many for success do compete
The happy in their mind one does not often meet
But the fact of the matter is we are born to eventually die
And in this way the child of the monarch no different to you and i
In this the twenty first century materialistic greed is rife
Money it is seen as the great thing in life
And those who lack in it are dismissed as losers and it seems sad to say
I too am a failure since this is the way
That a person is judged through judgmental eyes
Since those with heaps of money are judged better than those who lack in it i have come to realize
But why should the judgments of others bother me at all
Since we all eventually drop off of the tree of life like the deciduous leaves of the Fall
For winners and losers a last night and day
And everybody is equal where dead people lay.

From The Far Away Place

Though in this town for three years his remains as a stranger's face
The one who came here from the far away place
Where to the locals you will always be one from the big World out there
If you are one of those who was born elsewhere
He feels glad that the end of his work contract is near
It is due to expire in early February next year
He is looking forward to returning to his hometown from here far away
Where he hopes to live till his life's last night and day
Not yet in his mid twenties and near his life's prime
Three years away from home for him seems a long time
Nostalgia for the homeplace in the young migrant remains strong
To the town far away his loyalties belong
Here he feels a stranger though he earns a good pay
Next February he will be going back home to stay.

Mushera's Paddy Keeffe

I only knew Mushera's Paddy Keeffe as a very old man
He was then in the twilight of his long life span
The physical wear of time on him did show
With a cane's assistance he was walking slow

Ireland's best two mile hurdler when in his life's prime
Though this is going back many decades in time
Few in Ireland could match it with him on his day
The best of Mushera Valley of him one can say

In his prime Paddy Keeffe was a champion amongst athletic men
The All Ireland two mile hurdle champion of nineteen hundred and ten
A renowned athlete then well worthy of praise
By the Butter Road for him the bonfires did blaze

In hurdle racing in his time the supreme athlete
And though qualified to run in the Olympics he did not compete
For the honour of Britain and the flag of the crown
He felt that on so doing he would leave Ireland down

The legendary sporting hero of the valleys above Millstreet Town
Yet no memorial there to honour his renown
I knew him as an old man quite unaffected by fame
But time as is said the best of them does tame

From old timers i heard many stories of him as a boy
And the memories of such today i do enjoy
And i feel rather privileged that him i did meet
The champion from Mushera above the Town of Millstreet.

Admire Rakti

Admire Rakti the 2014 Caulfield Cup winner and champion racehorse from Japan
As favourite for the Melbourne Cup finished as an also ran
Behind Perfectionist the winner from Germany he finished in last place
And more devastating for his connections he collapsed and died just minutes after the race

For the connections of the seven year old stallion who had often given them cause to celebrate
The financial loss in a promising stud career of their famous stallion to them is great
But then such is life as the more pragmatic do say
And life has it's good days and bad days for life is this way

As a two mile racehorse Admire Rakti was in a class of his own
By fans of thoroughbred horse racing Worldwide he was known
After Australia's biggest race at Flemington he collapsed and died
And news of his death has become news Worldwide

A massive heart attack was the cause of his sudden death as the post mortem did tell
He was running second and suddenly dropped back the field obviously all with him not well
He died after the Melbourne Cup on the Flemington track in the November sun
The champion horse from Japan his last race had run.

The Hopkins River

In a journey of a hundred kilometers or more
To Warrnambool in south west Victoria to the Pacific shore
Through a mostly flat countryside it winds on it's way
Towards the Blue Hole at the end of it's journey by night and by day
The river that has inspired song, story and rhyme
Was a very old waterway even in the Dreamtime
Long before it got it's English name in Summer by it's banks in the shade of the trees
Australia's first people danced their corroborees
The rivers like the mountains in time every old
Their true history in book form will never be told
To the ancient paddocks many Seasons have come and gone
Where the river now known as the Hopkins to the ocean flows on
From it's source far from the ocean it slowly winds it's way
To the Blue Hole near Warrnambool by night and by day.

Goddess Doggerel

I know that she does have me under her spell
The one who is known as Goddess Doggerel
Every morning she whispers in my ear and say
I order you to pen more doggerel today
She claims to be my friend but i know she is my foe
But i lack in the mental strength for to her to say no
So her every order i feel compelled to obey
One reason i cannot give penning doggerel away
Her spell of addiction she has cast on me
And only in death of her i will be free
She preys on the minds of every aspiring to be poet
Of those who will never become worthy of literary note
She pretends she is my friend though i know she is my foe
And i lack in the mental strength for to her to say no.

November In Millstreet

Old Clara is covered in the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water is gurgling in every roadside drain
And the sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
And cattle in farm sheds are bellowing for silage or hay

The low gray clouds tell that heavy rain is near
To Millstreet in Duhallow in a cold and wet time of year
With the coldness of late Fall in the freshening breeze
And migratory redwing thrushes chirping on deciduous trees

In the Finnow in a subsiding flood of a cold November dawn
The salmon are swimming upriver to spawn
The natural urge for to breed in them overcomes the fear
Of dying in the night by poacher's gaff or spear

Winter fast approacing four months from the Spring
In November in Millstreet in Duhallow the songbirds do not sing
Seven weeks from the new year and the weather wet and cold
And with every new dawn the old year getting old

The parks of south west Victoria lush and green after recent Spring showers
Are looking resplendent in their Nature's wild flowers
Where beautiful young women lay in the warm sun improving their tan
In a sight of rare beauty for any idle man

In Millstreet in Duhallow it is a cold November day
In farm yard sheds cattle are bellowing for silage or hay
Old Clara is hidden in the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water gurgling in every roadside drain.

In Koroit Today

The sun behind gray clouds is hidden away
Though in the freshening wind from a paddock nearby wafts the sweet scent of hay
November weatherwise can be changeable as old timers do say
But the songbirds are singing in Koroit today
The distinctive flute like warbling of the magpies quite pleasant to hear
The birds who sing in all weather and every day of the year
And from where i am standing on wattle trees near
The songs of the blackbirds melodious and clear
In November in south west Victoria the parks and paddocks look so green
And wildflowers of many colours in abundance to be seen
A forecast high for the day of a cool sixteen degrees
Yet the sweet scent of hay in the freshening breeze
And the gardens in bloom and the songbirds do sing
On a cool enough day in Koroit in the Spring.

The Unsung Heroes And Heroines

They are not the type of people historians do recall
And their names will never be inscribed on any memorial wall
The women and men who work hard and live in the honest way
It can be truly said of them that they earn their every pay
The builders of communities the backbone of every town
One never can say of them that they do leave the Country down
They remain the unsung heroes and heroines and it does seem sad to say
That for their contributions to society for them never a loud hip hooray
Memories of their contributions to humanity should never be allowed to fade
Though to thank them for their efforts never a street parade
Like their ancestors before them the survival of humanity on them does depend
The financial economies of the World than them does not have a better friend
The few billionaires out of the hard work of working people accumulate most of their financial gain
Whilst the hard working men and women of the World as the unsung do remain.

War In Reality

The praises of war and war heroes the patriots and nationalists may sing
But war in reality is a terrible thing
And lessons cannot be learned in what we glorify
On our glorification of war the wrong of it we do deny
Between war and terrorism the difference not great
Yet a terrorist few would dare to celebrate
War to terrorism more often than not gives rise
And those who say that war leads to peace believe in their own lies
For the sins of the warlords the innocents with their lives do pay
Civilians are dying in war zones every day
Thousands of people every day from war zones across borders do flee
How tragic is life for the war refugee
Lessons cannot be learned from where heroes are made
Today in the big town another big war parade.

Self Promotion Once Frowned On

Of my life i do not have any success stories for to tell
Who would want to know of one who pens doggerel
But to meet people who sing their own praises i never walk far
So many have me believe of how marvellous they are

Though self praise is no praise it does seem this way
One must listen to thunder as the wise one does say
I listen though me they do fail to impress
In any of their stories in their every life success

Though you should leave it to others your preaises to sing
Self promotion nowadays seems to be the in thing
In the age of the selfie narcissism is rife
But then suppose we all have our own ways of looking at life

In a World where for material success many do compete
Those who sing their own praises i often do meet
Narcissism it does seem is self love gone wrong
Five minutes talking to their sort for me is too long

If you wish to hear a success story you need not walk far
Just a few hundred meters to your local public bar
Where you will meet some only too willing their own praises to sing
Self promotion once frowned on is now an in thing.