What i pen is not poetry only

What I Pen Is Not Poetry I Only Call It Stuff
And It Does Not Bother Me At All If I’m Not Seen As Good Enough
I Am An Addictive Rhymer I’ve Said So Much Before
And Now That The Urge Is On Me I Will Go And Pen Some More,
Old Father Time Is Ticking The Years Creep Up On Me
And A Man From Claraghatlea North Is All I’ll Ever Be
The Man May Leave The Mountain But The Mountain In Him Stay
And I Retain Mental Pictures Of The Old Fields Far Away
The Years Are Catching Up One Me And My Better Days Long Gone
For Anyone Time Does Not Wait It Keeps On Ticking On
May The Last Day Be The Hardest A Wise One Once Did Say
And I Live For The Present And The Present Is Today
I Have Written A Whole Heap Of Stuff Since I Was In My Prime
And Until The Reaper Claims Me I Will Be Penning Rhyme.
Francis Duggan