Grandma and the Family Tree

Courtesy of the Leicestershire and Rutland Family History Society magazine.

family tree

Grandmas Family Tree

There’s been a change in Grandma; we’ve noticed her of late,
She’s always reading history and jotting down the date.
She’s tracking back the family,-we all have pedigrees,
Oh Grandma’s got a hobby, she’s climbing Family Trees

 

Poor Grandpa does the cooking 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 baby-sit; the curtains are a fright,
No buttons left on Granddad’s shirt, the flower beds a sight.
She’s given up her club work, the serials on TV,
The only thing she does nowadays is climb the family tree.

 

 

The mail is all for grandma, it comes from near and far
Last week she got the proof to boast “almost a movie star”
A worthwhile avocation to that we all agree,
A monumental project is to climb the Family Tree.

 

 

Now some folks come from Scotland, and some from Galway Bay,
Some were French as pastry, some German all the way,
Some went out west to stake their claim, some stayed near by the sea.
Grandma hopes to find them all as she climbs the Family Tree.

 

She wanders through the graveyard in search of date or 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 Fathers of all our Family Trees.

 

 

There were pioneers and patriots mixed in our kith and kin
Who blazed the path of wilderness and fought through thick and thin,
But none more staunch than Grandma, who’s 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 record shows was hopelessly a crook.
Blacksmith, weaver, farmer, judge, some tutored for a fee
Long lost in time, now all recorded, on the Family Tree.

 

To some it’s just a hobby, to Grandma it’s much more,
She know the joys and heartaches of those who went before,
They loved, they lost, they laughed, they wept, and now for you and me
They live again in spirit, all around the Family Tree.

 

 

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

 

Sad to relate the preacher called and chatted 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 conversation turned to Grandma’s Family Tree.

 

 

We tried to change the subject, we talked of everything,
But then in Grandma’s voice we heard that old familiar ring,
She told him all about the past and soon ’twas plain to see
The Preacher, too, was really snared by Grandma’s Family Tree.

 

He never knew his grandpa; his mother’s name was Clark
He and Grandma talked and talked outside till it grew dark.
We’d hoped our fears were groundless, but just like some disease,
Grandmas’ become an addict- she’s hooked on Family Trees.

 

 

Our souls were filled with sorrow; our hearts sank with dismay,
Our ears could scarce believe the words we heard our Grandma say,
“It really is a lucky thing that you have come to me,
I know exactly how it’s done. Ill climb YOUR family tree!”

 

 

Author is unknown. This was printed in the Leicestershire and Rutland Family History Society magazine.

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