A Happy Migrant

Poem By Francis Duggan

He won't be going back to the field by the high wood by the hill
And walk along by the old stream whose tongue is never still
He is happy in this tropical town of sun shine every day
And he doesn't pine for what has been and brown hills far away

He arrived here a decade ago when he had turned nineteen
A young man from a distant Land to the ways of the World green
He has been with many women since and is having a good time
And only two or three years at the most now beyond his life's prime.

The green figbird in the tropical sun chirps on the tall gum tree
And the flying foxes roost upside down on the acacias by the sea
Whilst on the beach sunbathers lay in the warm evening sun
Thousands of miles from the northern shore where his journey south begun.

He loves the warmer climate here and he is here for the long stay
And he doesn't pine for the old hills and the woods and fields far away
He goes down to the sea and swims after work every day
And why should I ever wish to leave the good life here he say.

A happy migrant living far south of his old Homeland shore
And he may not return to where he came from anymore
The lorikeets are chirping on the flowering banksia trees
And the butcherbirds are piping in the freshening coastal breeze.

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