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Kinsman
Spring 2000 and Revised: 18 Dec 1999
One of our correspondents submitted to us the following poem, entitled "Kinsman," by Wayne Hand which admirably describes the frustrations we all feel in tracing our roots.:
Kinsman Alas, my elusive kinsman You've led me quite a chase I thought I'd found your courthouse But the Yankees burned the place. You always kept your bags packed Although you had no fame, and Just for the fun of it Twice you changed your name. You never owed any man, or At least I found no bills In spite of eleven offspring You never left a will. They say our name's from Europe Came state side on a ship Either they lost the passenger list Or granddad gave them the slip. I'm the only one looking Another searcher I can't find I pray (maybe that's his fathers name) As I go out of my mind. They said you had a headstone In a shady plot I've been there twenty times, and Can't even find the lot. You never wrote a letter Your Bible we can't find It's probably in some attic Out of sight and out of mind. You first married a .....Smith And just to set the tone The other four were Sarahs And everyone a Jones. You cost me two fortunes One of which I did not have My wife, my house and Fido God, how I miss that yellow lab. But somewhere you slipped up, Ole Boy, Somewhere you left a track And if I don't find you this year Well...... Next year I'll be back! Wayne Hand c1999If you have any verses to add to the poem, please contact us at dewald@prenticenet.com.
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