The Old Travelling Minstrel Poem by Francis Duggan

His songs are still with me from decades ago
And many of them in my heart I do know
He played his accordion by his campfire at night
And he sang his old songs under the dim moonlight.

Joy to the listeners the old traveller did bring
Hundreds of songs and ballads he could sing
His gifts of song and music he did share
There was none with him that one could compare.

The travelling minstrel of no fixed abode
The son of travellers an old man of the road
His only offspring his son in Britain with his own children and wife
He was travelling alone near the end of his life.

In some lonely grave-yard from here far away
The old travelling minstrel in silence now lay
He was one who did not crave money or fame
And he died old and poor without much to his name.

Pre-deceased by his wife he grew old on his own
He did not yearn for success or to become well known
He loved song and music born to entertain
And good memories of him till my end I'll retain.

He knew hundreds of songs and tunes a remarkable feat
But in twenty first century Ireland his type you won't meet
In fancy by his campfire I hear him play and sing
In his lifetime great joy to many he did bring.