Scottish Lines
|
Scottish Lines |
|
 |
Hast thou sought thy ancestor, Wading through dusty old books, Seeking Alexander, William and Lester, Wondering from whence came your looks? Joy is the name of a long gone relation. Who did he marry? Where is the child? Did he live on some far away station? Or was he a warrior, oh so wild? Ah! A quarrier we have here, With his wife, in laws and out laws galore, And a mason appears over there. That story of riches is not mere folklore! Red hair in the wind is flying, Blue and red tartan riding high, Cold knees knocking in the snowing, Wonder not - on the battlefield Scots die. They die not of lack of bravery, But of the dreadful winter obscene, Lead him not into slavery, Mark his grave with heather green. Gail Irwin 2001 |
 |
 |
Who Am I?WILKINS was my name, in those days of oral array,Oh, how I longed for family beginning with an "A", Though boyfriends with "W" long held the sway, Order did alter when came my wedding day. Now in my history searches, to my dismay, The WILKINS line has gone sadly astray. It seems Grandpop was not as they say Born in London or Essex on that day. Though he grew up and married in London gay, I have searched here, there and every way Indices and census galore, by night and by day But not a shred of evidence that the data is okay. A long London line of Henry Williams, he would say, But only one record seems to have survived to this day, Was I ever WILKINS or was it all just a play? An answer I have to find before I am too gray. Oh Santa where is your sleigh? All I wanted for Christmas Day Was my Grandpop, who could say As whom, where and on what day Was he born, long ago, so far away. Gail Irwin 2002 |