This page is where I am collecting poems, quotes, humour & oddities.  

It is purely for the lighter side of family history & I hope some of it brings a smile to your face.

All contributions gratefully received.


     Dear Ancestor...

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.

                         Unknown author.



                                                                                                                     If Your Family Tree Doesn't Fork                                      



Many many years ago when I was twenty three,                   Then that also made him brother

I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.            To the widow's grown-up daughter

This widow had a grown-up daughter                                    Who, of course, was my step-mother.

Who had hair of red.                                                            Father's wife then had a son,

My father fell in love with her,                                              Who kept them on the run.

And soon the two were wed.                                                And he became my grandson,  

This made my dad my son-in-law                                         For he was my daughter's son

And changed my very life.                                                   My wife is now my mother's mother

My daughter was my mother,                                              And it makes me blue.

For she was my father's wife.                                              Because, although she is my wife,

To complicate the matters worse,                                        She's my grandmother too.

Although it brought me joy,                                                 If my wife is my grandmother,

I soon became the father                                                    Then I am her grandchild.

Of a bouncing baby boy.                                                      And every time I think of it,

My little baby then became                                                  It simply drives me wild.

A brother-in-law to dad.                                                      For now I have become

And so became my uncle,                                                                The strangest case you ever saw.

Though it made me very sad.                                               As the husband of my grandmother,

For if he was my uncle,                                                        I am my own grandpa!

                                                                                                 Unknown Author.


        I think this is an appropriate reminder to us all

        when requesting help from fellow researchers:

Lest We Forget

We read your desperate pleas for help

And we do what we can

We give our time freely

To help our fellow man

But you should think of what's involved

In getting your problem solved

And say a thank you now and then

It's courteous I'm told


Alan the South Londoner in NZ

From Peterhead to Peterborough, Pendle to Penzance,

My merry band of ancestors has led me quite a dance.

There's no-one rich and famous, no, not even well to-do,

Though a second cousin twice removed once played in goal for Crewe.

My bride of just three minutes I left standing in the church,

As I nipped into the graveyard for a spot of quick research,

Eventually I found an uncle 60 years deceased,

It was far more satisfying than a silly wedding feast.

But now my thirty year obsession is lying in the bin,

Last Tuesday week I heard the news that made me chuck it in,

For my darling mother who is not long on this earth,

Casually informed me they'd adopted me from birth.

Unknown Author

The Genealogists Bible

The Ancestors commandments:

Thou shall use the same forenames for at least one person from every generation,

preferably at least once in every family on every generation, just to cause confusion.

Thou shall wait the maximum amount of time before registering births and deaths,

or better still somehow forget to get them registered at all.

Thou shall have 2 forenames, and use them both separately on official records, but never both together.

Thou shall change your forename at least once during your lifetime.

Thou shall use every conceivable spelling for your surname, and make up a few as well.

Thou shall never use the same year of birth or birthdate.

Always vary it, adding on a couple of years here and taking away a couple of years there.

Thou shall use the house name and county as your place of birth, and not the village or town.

Thou shall completely disappear without trace for at least 15 years of your life, and suddenly turn up again.

Thou shall use at least 2 versions of your fathers name.

Thou shall not use family members as your witnesses at your wedding.

Thou shall get married somewhere that neither of you live.

Thou shall not have all of your children baptised, and shall not always use the same church.

Thou shall move between counties at least once every 10 years.

Thou shall move hundreds of miles from your home town at least once.

Better still would be to move to another country in the UK.

Thou shall make life as difficult as possible for your descendents when they decide to research you.

Thou shall use as many of these commandments as is possible during your lifetime, but not all are necessary.

My thanks to Maureen Downes for this contribution & the following poem of hers.

Family History

I decided to do my family history

Just for the fun of it.

I hadn't realised the purgatory

To get every single hit.

I've been to the library

Where I spent an hour or two.

I've managed to find the Priory

Now my eyes feel like glue.

I went to the record office

Hoping to find Harry Moore.

Eventually he did surface

But as Marry Hoore.

I posted to the list

With a glint of hope.

Willing to persist

Don't know if I'll cope.

How do I get on from here

Not knowing who they were.

My brain is out of gear

Am I looking for him or her.

I've been staring at the screen

For many hours up till now.

Wondrous what I can glean

Sweat dripping from my brow.

Hubby's home it a while

Hope he's in a good mood.

Done a little left a pile

Got to get him some food.

Haven't time to clean the house

While I'm on the internet.

Did I just see a mouse

Or was it just my little pet.

Tomorrow's another day

Giving up for tonight.

Pity I don't get any pay

But it is still a delight.

Here's to Abraham INGLESON

And looking at you Alfred DOWNES.

Not forgetting every ATKINSON

You've all cost me pounds.

To every family member

Be you gone, here or to come,

I love you all remember

Stranger that I am to some.

Where would I be without you

Not here that I know.

Just wish you could give me a clue

As to all that YOU know.

By Maureen Downes

Hunting the Ancestors

I feel like Monsieur Poirot, researching for a case.

I'm hunting in the attic with Cobwebs in my face.

There's nothing here for me to find,

No starting thread I can unwind,

Just lots and lots of dust and grime.

So now I'll ask some questions of people that I know.

This ancestor hunting is very, very slow.

The people that I'm asking just blankly stare in space,

"I'm sorry but your ancestors have disappeared without a trace".

I know that cousin Eric was a farmer down in Hoe,

And that little Auntie Margaret married Mr Graham Lowe.

But I never knew that uncle Fred, Whose real name was really George

Left his last profession, as he just got really bored.

Now that I've got going there are things I really dread,

Like my favourite Aunty Phillipa was really Uncle Ted!

This family thing's confusing the list of names goes on,

I'm sure that something here is very, very wrong.

There are skeletons in the Cupboards!

That they thought I would not find.

Oh dear! That's Auntie Ethel,

I do hope she doesn't mind.

Author: S.J.Goodwin. Bromley, Kent.

My thanks to Sue for letting me use her poem on this page

Look at the price of a

Renault in 1924!

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