Author: Francis Duggan


It saddens me to think that windbags into the twenty first century us lead
That the people who sing their own praises are the people most likely to succeed
In life and this so called success game whatever the hell that might mean
Since I'm one who doesn't look up to any and my better days I have seen.

I never did sing my own praises though I cannot afford for to brag
And others they cannot say of me that fellow he is a windbag
But I have not spent years in college and can't boast of my Uni degrees
I was a young man of the sixties and I shoveled in mud to my knees.

I've never been one who liked windbags they feel away above the rest
Yet I do not dislike them as people it's what they stand for I detest
They feel they are better than others with them it is me, myself and I
And I do not like them for their boasting and about that fact why should I lie

When someone tells me of his or her successes though of such of them I did not ask
I listen to them for four or five minutes whilst in self adulation they bask
I end our one way conversation by saying there's someone that I have to meet
I do not waste time on such people their heads rather swelled of conceit.

I do not have much time for windbags though their type I meet every day
They bore me with their self importance and their loud voices a give away
They boast of the good jobs they hold down and they brag of their Uni degrees
And I a young man of the sixties still shovel in mud to the knees.


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