Francis Duggan Water Poems

In her ground nest among the rank rushes from sight well hidden away
The mottled brown pheasant on her clutch of olive eggs lay
And the dark brown water bird dipper with breast white as snow
Sings on a low branch above the river where the Cails water flow
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We are ninety per cent water or so we are told
Our childhood and prime years go quickly we soon do grow old
For this thing known as success with each other we compete
The down to earth person one does not often meet
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Did Christ walk on water why bother ask me
Since I only believe what my own eyes do see
I am a non believer to a God I don't pray
It does take all kind as some are known to say
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In the enclosed water tank in the backyard well hidden from sight
In his breeding Season he sings all the day and he sings all the night
Just a sort of a single plonk that he utters continuously is his breeding song
That he utters all the day and all the night long
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Brown storm water flowing to the river in every stream, rill and drain
And the mountains are cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And cattle in farmyard sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
North of this Country in sky miles far away
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I remember i heard Burns Afton Water in the Square in Millstreet Town
Sung by an old traveling musician with gray in his hair of brown
As he played on his concertina at the September Horse Fair
The beauty in his singing voice and music wafting in the morning air
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He is on the water waggon big Joe who loved his beer
He hasn't tasted alcohol since around this time last year
Too late to save his marriage but suppose such is life
His lovely ex spouse Miranda is now some one else's wife.
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The day is warm and dust fly in the breeze
And a forecast high of 35 degrees
And to quench my thirst I would need a cold beer
For no water like cool Tubrid water here.
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