As you must have figured out by now, I love genealogy.
Below are just a few poems I've come across during my research..
The first one I wrote myself for a Family Reunion
As for the rest, I don't know who wrote them,
I don't claim it was me,
I don't even remember where I found them ...
I just want to share them with you
If you have any poems concerning Genealogy, please e-mail
them to me...
I'd be happy to put them here for everyone to see !
Rupert and Beulah Jones
With Rupert and Beulah, this family did start,
The fall 19-8, they vowed never to part.
Grampy worked with his hands dayout and dayin,
While Gram made the house, a home, to love in.
They worked hard together on the farm for the best,
But Sunday of course, was their day of rest.
With word of the news, Gramps' heart must have sung,
Nine months later came Frank, his number one son.
Three years past, and oh what a pearl,
They had an addition, a son..Uncle Earle.
Their family was growing as fast as a weed,
Along came Norman, the fireman to be.
The next one was Clifford, the one who loved cars,
He stayed with his Mother, he never was far.
With the arrival of Lloyd, Gramp's sons numbered five,
With all of them busy, it was like a bee-hive.
On the scene appeared Claude, Gramp's face was a gleam,
Three more he thought and I've got my ball team !
Grammie, however, was getting discouraged,
She wanted a girl and a little doll carriage.
The nursery was ready, all pretty and clean,
Then Gram got her wish, a girl named Jean.
Another girl Irma, was next to appear,
She was dark-haired and cuddly, a sweet little dear.
The next one was Donald, and oh what a joy,
Gramp was all smiles, his seventh big boy !
To round off the family all they needed was one,
So dear Elsie was born, in the year '31.
They raised them all up, and taught them the best,
To work hard to live, but Sunday you rest.
Though some of them now are just in our hearts,
Their love and their memories, will never part.
And now as I close, look around and you'll see,
The results of their love, the best, you and me !
Nancy (Jones) Matthews
If you could see your ancestors
All standing in a row.
Would you be proud of them ?
Or don't you really know ?
Strange discoveries are sometimes made,
In climbing the family tree,
Occasionally one is found in line,
Who shocks his progeny.
If you could see your ancestors,
All standing in a row,
Perhaps there might be one or two,
You wouldn't care to know.
Now turn the question right about,
And take another view.
When you shall meet your ancestors,
Will they be proud of you ?
Many, many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, who was pretty as could be,
This widow had a grownup daughter, who had hair of red,
My father fell in love with her, and soon they too, were wed !
This made my Dad, my son-in-law and really changed my life,
For now my daughter was my mother, 'cause she was my father's wife,
And to complicate the matter, even though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy !
My little baby then became a brother-in-law to Dad,
And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
For if he were my uncle, then that also made him brother,
Of the widow's grownup daughter, who of course was my stepmother !
Father's wife then had a son, who kept them on the run,
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son,
My wife is now my mother's mother and it make me blue,
Because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother too !
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I'm her grandchild,
And everytime I think of it, it nearly drives me wild,
'Cause now I have become the strangest case you ever saw,
As husband of my grandmother, I am my own Grandpa !
I went searching for an ancestor ... I cannot find him still,
He moved around from place to place and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned, he mended all his fences,
He avoided any man who came to take the US census.
He always kept his luggage packed, this man who had no fame,
And every 20 years or so, this rascal changed his name.
His parents came from Europe ... they should be upon some list
Of passengers to the USA, but somehow they got missed.
And no one else in this world is searching for this man,
So, I play geneasolitaire to find him if I can.
I'm told he's buried in a plot, with a tombstone he was blessed;
but the weather took engraving, and some vandals took the rest.
He died before the county clerks decided to keep records,
No Family Bible has emerged, in spite of all my efforts.
To top it off this ancestor, who caused me many groans,
Just to give me one more pain, betrothed a girl named JONES!
It came from your father,
It was all he had to give;
So it's yours to use and cherish,
As long as you may live.
If you lose the watch he gave you,
It can always be replaced;
But a black mark on your name,
Can never be erased.
It was clean the day you took it,
And a worthy name to bear;
When I got it from my father,
There was no dishonor there.
So make sure you guard it wisely,
After all is said and done,
You'll be glad the name is spotless,
When you give it to your son!
Edgar A. Guest
I started out calmly, tracing my tree,
To see if I could find the makings of me.
And all that I had was Great-Grandfather's name,
Not knowing his wife or from where he came.
I chased him across a long line of states,
And came up with pages and pages of dates.
When all put together, it made me forlorn,
Proved poor Great-Grandpa had never been born!
One day I was sure the truth I had found,
Determined to turn this whole thing upside down.
I looked up the record of one Uncle John,
But then found the old man to be younger than his son.
Then when my hopes were fast growing dim,
I came across records that must have been him.
The facts I collected made me quite sad,
Dear old Great-Grandfather was never a Dad!
It seems that someone is pulling my leg.
I am not at all sure I wasn't hatched from an egg.
After hundreds of dollars I've spent on my tree,
I can't help but wonder if I'm really "ME!"
Click on the headstones for a closer look.
My Great Great Great Great Grandfather Henry Jones
My Great Great Great Grandfather Charles Jones
My Great Great Grandfather Jacob Jones
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone,
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
Lord, help me dig into the past,
And sift the sands of time
That I might find the roots that made,
This family tree of mine
Lord, help me trace the ancient roads,
On which my fathers trod
And led them through so many lands,
To find our present sod
Lord, help me find an ancient book,
or dusty manuscript
That's safely hidden now away,
in some forgotten crypt
Lord, let it bridge the gap that haunts,
my soul when I can't find
The missing link between some name,
that ends the same as mine.
-- Curtis Woods --
Genealogy is my Pastime ... I shall not stray,
It maketh me to lie down and examine half-buried Tombstones;
It leadeth me into still Courthouses.
It restoreth my Ancestral Knowledge;
It leadeth me into the Paths of Census Records and Ships Passenger Lists for my Surnames' sake;
Yeah, though I wade through the Shadows of Research Libraries and Microfilm Readers,
I shall fear no Discouragment, for a Strong Urge is with me.
The curiosity and motivation, they Comfort me;
It demandeth preparation of Storage Space for the Aquisition of Countless Documents;
It anointeth my Head with burning Midnight Oil,
My Family Group Sheets runneth over.
Surely Birth,Marriage and Death dates shall follow me all the Days of my Life,
And I shall dwell in the House of a Family History Seeker Forever.