Grandma Climbed The Family Tree
There's been a change in Grandma,
We've noticed as of late;
She's always reading history,
Or jotting down some date.
She's tracing back the family,
We'll all have pedigrees;
Grandma's got a hobby ...
She's Climbing Family Trees!
Poor Grandpa does the cooking,
And now, or so he states ...
He even has to wash the cups
And the dinner plates.
Well, 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 Grandpa's shirts,
The flower bed's a sight.
She's given up her club work,
And the serials on TV;
The only thing she does nowadays
Is climb that Family Tree.
The mail is all for Grandma ...
It comes from near and far;
Last week she got the proof
She needs to join the DAR.
A monumental project ...
To that we all agree;
A worthwhile avocation ...
To climb the Family Tree.
She wanders through the graveyard
In search of date and 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.
Now some folks came from Scotland,
Some from Galway Bay;
Some were as French as pastry,
And some were German all the way.
Some went West to stake their claims,
Some stayed there by the sea;
Grandma hopes to find them all,
As she climbs the Family Tree.
There were pioneers and patriots,
Mixed with our kith and kin,
Who blazed the paths of wilderness
And fought through thick and thin.
But none more staunch than Grandma,
Whose 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 a cook;
And one, alas, the records show ...
Was hopelessly a crook.
Blacksmith, farmer, weaver, judge ...
Some tutored for a fee;
One got lost in time,
All are now recorded on the Family Tree.
To some, it's just a hobby,
To Grandma it's much more;
She learns 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,
Around the Family Tree.
At last she's nearly finished,
And we are each exposed;
Life will be the same again,
This is what we all suppose.
Grandma will cook and sew,
Serve crullers with our tea;
We'll have her back, just as before,
That wretched Family Tree!
Sad to relate,
The Preacher called and visited 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 neatly snared by ...
Grandma's Family Tree!
We've noticed as of late;
She's always reading history,
Or jotting down some date.
She's tracing back the family,
We'll all have pedigrees;
Grandma's got a hobby ...
She's Climbing Family Trees!
Poor Grandpa does the cooking,
And now, or so he states ...
He even has to wash the cups
And the dinner plates.
Well, 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 Grandpa's shirts,
The flower bed's a sight.
She's given up her club work,
And the serials on TV;
The only thing she does nowadays
Is climb that Family Tree.
The mail is all for Grandma ...
It comes from near and far;
Last week she got the proof
She needs to join the DAR.
A monumental project ...
To that we all agree;
A worthwhile avocation ...
To climb the Family Tree.
She wanders through the graveyard
In search of date and 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.
Now some folks came from Scotland,
Some from Galway Bay;
Some were as French as pastry,
And some were German all the way.
Some went West to stake their claims,
Some stayed there by the sea;
Grandma hopes to find them all,
As she climbs the Family Tree.
There were pioneers and patriots,
Mixed with our kith and kin,
Who blazed the paths of wilderness
And fought through thick and thin.
But none more staunch than Grandma,
Whose 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 a cook;
And one, alas, the records show ...
Was hopelessly a crook.
Blacksmith, farmer, weaver, judge ...
Some tutored for a fee;
One got lost in time,
All are now recorded on the Family Tree.
To some, it's just a hobby,
To Grandma it's much more;
She learns 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,
Around the Family Tree.
At last she's nearly finished,
And we are each exposed;
Life will be the same again,
This is what we all suppose.
Grandma will cook and sew,
Serve crullers with our tea;
We'll have her back, just as before,
That wretched Family Tree!
Sad to relate,
The Preacher called and visited 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 neatly snared by ...
Grandma's Family Tree!
~ Virginia Day McDonald ~