GENEALOGY OF SOME ENGLISH NAMES:
A FAMILY HISTORIAN'S LAMENT
I've been doing family history for nearly 30 years,
From Pigeon Lake to Peterborough, Penrith to Penzance,
There's cooks from Kent and guards from Gwent and chimney sweeps from
Chester.
There's no-one rich or famous, no not even well-to-do,
I've haunted record offices from Gillingham to Jarrow,
I've deciphered bad handwriting that would shame a three year old,
My bride of just three minutes, I left standing in the church,
Eventually I found an uncle, sixty years deceased.
After three weeks of wedded bliss, my wife became despondent
I didn't even notice when she packed her bags and went
But now my 30 year obsession's lying in the bin
'Twas then my darling mother, who is not long for this earth,
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Diligently tracing my illustrious forebears,
My merry band of ancestors has led me quite a dance.
There's even one daft fisherman lived all his life in Leicester,
Though a second cousin twice removed once played in goal for Crewe.
The little grey cells of my mind would humble Hercule Poirot.
And brought the black sheep of the family back to the fold.
As I nipped into the graveyard for a spot of quick research.
That was far more satisfying than a silly wedding feast,
She named the public records office as the co-respondent.
I was looking for a great granddad's will who'd died in Stoke on Trent
Last Tuesday week, I heard some news that made me pack it in.
Casually informed me they'd adopted me at birth!
Author unknown --submitted by John S. Gleed