Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Poems Page 1
I hope you enjoy these poems as much as I. Some of them are a
little too true for me. If you have a genealogy poem, send it to me
and I will add it to my selection.
Dear Ancestor
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The names and date are chiseled out,
On polished, marbled stone.
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.

Author Unknown

If you Could See
Your Ancestor's
If you could see your ancestor's
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 ancestor's
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 ancestor's
Will they be proud of you?

Author Unkown
Submited by Connie Weber
Roger Thinks this poem was written for me. I tried to tell him I got it from an
e-mail friend. He doesn't beleive me. I do tend to get carried away with my
research! Enjoy.
Grandma's Disease...
There's been a change in Grandma, we've noticed of her late.
She's always reading history or jotting down some date.
She's tracking back the family, we'll all have pedigrees.
Oh, Grandma's got a hobby -She's climbing FAMILY TREES.

Poor Grandpa does the cooking, and now, or so he states,
That worst of all, he has to wash the cups and dinner plates.
Grandma can't be bothered, she's busy as a bee,
Compiling genealogy for the FAMILY TREE.

She has no time to babysit, the curtains are a fright,
No buttons left on Grandpa's shirt, the flower bed's a sight.
She's given up her club work and the soaps on TV,
The only thing she does nowadays is climb the FAMILY TREE.

She goes down to the courthouse and studies ancient lore,
We know more about our forebears than we ever knew before.
The books are old and dusty, the make poor Grandma sneeze,
A minor irritation when you're climbing the FAMILY TREE.

The mail is all for Grandma, it comes from near and far,
Last week she got the proof she needs to join the D.A.R.
A monumental project all do agree,
All from climbing up the FAMILY TREE.

Now some folks came from Scotland, some from Galway Bay,
Some were French as pastry, some German all the way.
Some went west to stake their claims, some stayed there by the sea.
Grandma hopes to find them all, as she climbs the FAMILY TREE.

She wanders through the graveyard in search of date and name,
The rich, the poor, the in-between, all sleeping there the same.
She pauses now and then to rest, fanned by a gentle breeze,
That blows above the Father's of all our FAMILY TREES.

There are pioneers and patriots, mixed in our kith and kin,
Who blazed the paths of wilderness and fought through thick and thin.
But none more staunch than Grandma, whose eyes light up with glee,
Each time she finds a missing branch for the FAMILY TREE.

Their skills were wide and varied, from carpenter to cook,
And one, alas the records show was hopelessly a crook.
Blacksmith, waver, farmer, judge -some tutored for a fee.
Once lost in time, now all recorded on the FAMILY TREE.

To some it's just a hobby, to Grandma it's much more,
She learns the joys and heartaches of those that went before.
They loved, they lost, they laughed, they wept -and now, for you and me,
They live again in spirit, around the FAMILY TREE.

At last she's nearly finished and we are each exposed,
Life will be the same again, this we all supposed.
Grandma will cook and sew, serve cookies with our tea.
We'll all be fat, just as before the wretched FAMILY TREE.

Sad to relate, the preacher called and visited for a spell.
We talked about the Gospel, and other things as well.
the heathen folk, the poor and then -twas fate, it had to be,
Somehow the conversations turned to Grandma and the FAMILY TREE.

He never knew his Grandpa, his mother's name was....Clark?
He and Grandma talked and talked, while outside it grew dark.
We'd hoped our fears were groundless, but just like some disease,
Grandma's become an addict -she's hooked on FAMILY TREES.

Our souls are filled with sorrow, our hearts sad with dismay.
Our ears could scarce believe the words we heard our Grandma say,
"It sure is a lucky thing that you have come to me,
I know exactly how it's done. I'll climb your FAMILY TREE."

Author Unknown
sent to me by Connie Weber
Thanks Connie

Home
Page
Family
History
Family
News
Family Links
Photos
Poems
Page 1
Poems
Page 2
About Us
Our Pets
You are Visitor
Thanks for comming, and please sign my guestbook!