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6713.
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The Busker
Some people call him lazy and others call him uncouth
And other names like daydreamer or aimless layabout
When the mood strikes him on his canvas folding chair which he uses for a seat
He sits and plays guitar and sings his songs at the corner of the street.
On the money he earns from busking he manages to get by
Some in passing dropp money in his tin for to sing he is not shy
He sings the songs he himself penned his lyrics are supreme
As a singer and a songwriter some hold him in high esteem.
In his early thirties with long brown hair a hippy looking bloke
A character in his own right he can laugh at a joke
He never will work for a boss he lives in his own way
And it never bothers him a bit what some of him do say.
Not of the ordinary flock one who does his own thing
In his melodious singing voice his own songs he does sing
For the great talent he possess so litle is his gain
But he enjoys his regular busk he was born to entertain.
Francis Duggan
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6714.
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The Butcherbird
The butcherbird sings a happy song but butcherbird's a sinner
He steals the young of other birds and eats them for his dinner
He eats the young of other birds and sing his merry ditty
The ruthless killer butcherbird to others show no pity.
The Butcherbird's a cruel bird and all to him a stranger
And at nesting time he risk his life to keep his young from danger
He chase away all others birds the cruelest of the crueler
And in his own corner of the wood the Butcherbird is ruler.
The Butcherbird the violent bird his foes are in the many
And he doesn't seem to have a friend and he doesn't deserve any
He guard his wife and childer and he chase away all others
And Butcherbird the fearless bird will even fight his brothers
Francis Duggan
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6715.
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The By Roads Of Duhallow
The by roads of Duhallow they wind on up and down
By Mushera mountain through Aubane and on towards Millstreet Town
I fancy I can see them by the old bracken hills
And I hear the dippers singing in the rippling streams and rills.
From the by roads of Duhallow I may live far away
But in my flights of fancy I see them every day
They wind along the country side from Kiskeam to Boherbue
And down to Cullen Village and uphill to Knocknagree.
The by roads of Duhallow have not changed much in time
The famed bards of the district by them inspired to rhyme
From Kilcorney to Dromtarriffe through to Kanturk via Rathcoole and Banteer
Of the beauty of these places one might sing on for a year.
The by roads of Duhallow live in my memory
Along by the Blackwater and on through Derrinagree
Through Meelin and Newmarket and Rockchapel on to Tower
On the day I last drove on them the hawthorns were in flower.
The by roads of Duhallow may seem distant from me
But they are not that far north when in fancy them I see
And again I will drive on them in the not too distant day
When birds sing on the hedgerows and flowers bloom in the May.
Francis Duggan
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6716.
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The C.F.A.
You ask old Meg McHenry about the C.F.A.
And without them she will tell you she'd be Homeless today
The trees and paddocks around her house left burnt and looking black
But they risked their lives to save her home and they beat the huge flames back.
The Country Fire Authority members their brave deeds worthy of recall
Men and women who risk their lives though their rewards may seem small
Stories of their courage in the gap of danger have been told far and wide
Without them facing the fire front far more homes would be destroyed.
The men and women of the C.F.A. fearless in their fight with fire
They are the unsung heroes and one only can admire
Them for their courage in times of danger death one mistake away
True stories of their fearlessness we hear of every day.
They often risk their lives and limbs for human lives and property
The brave volunteers of the C.F.A. and their services are free
And seventy years old Meg McHenry tells everyone she meet
That only for the fire fighting volunteers she would be on the street
Francis Duggan
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