by Merrell Kenworthy
I went searching for an ancestor.
I cannot find him still.
He moved around from place to place and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned.
He mended all his fences.
He avoided any man who came to take the U.S. Census.
He always kept his luggage packed, this man who had no fame.
And every twenty years or so, this rascal changed his name.
His parents came from Europe and should be upon some list
Of passengers to the U.S.A., but somehow they got missed.
And no one else in this world is searching for this man.
So, I play genea-solitaire to find him if I can.
I’m told he’s buried in a plot, with tombstone he was blessed;
But the weather took the engraving, and some vandals took the rest.
He died before the county clerks decided to keep records.
No Family Bible has emerged, in spite of all my efforts.
To top it off this ancestor, who caused me many groans,
Just to give me one more pain, betrothed a girl named JONES!
