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The Dying Migrant
29 July, 2007
Author: Francis Duggan

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Near by the window of ward 5 on branch of cypress tree
The gold billed blackbird pipes again his oft piped melody
And she feels far so far away back home in Italy
In leafy grove by her dad's home by Adriatic sea.

Maria come in for your tea she hear her mother say
And you must do your homework yet you've had your time for play
It's getting on towards your bedtime you've stayed out far too late
You must be early up for school it now is ten to eight.

Her dad comes whistling up the street with great big hug they greet
And he has brought her from the store another chocolate treat
He runs his calloused fingers through her soft to touch brown hair
And he thinks his daughter beautiful than her none quite so fair.

She love her sun bronzed fisher dad and none so great as he
She love him for his happy ways so happy and carefree
He rise each morning before dawn to face the working day
And steer his boat towards deep waters out of the shallow bay.

She wears her first communion dress her mother by her side
She looks at mum who smiles at her with looks of love and pride
And later aunts and uncles come with chocolate, cakes and flowers
Oh such a happy day for her they party on for hours.

Her husband sitting by the bed keeps vigil on the chair
But she is in another World of him she's not aware
And gold billed blackbird pipes his tune on branch of cypress tree
And she is back playing in the grove by Adriatic sea.

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