KINSMAN (original poem by Wayne Hand, 1999) Alas, my elusive kinsman, You've led me quite a chase. I thought I'd found your courthouse, But the Yankees burned the place. You always kept your bags packed, Although you had no fame, And just for the fun of it, Twice you changed your name. You never owed any man, Or at least I found no bills. In spite of eleven offspring, You never left a will. They say our name's from Europe, Came state side on a ship. Either they lost the passenger list, Or great granddad gave them the slip. I'm the only one looking, Another searcher I can't find. I pray (maybe that's his fathers name) As I go out of my mind. They said you had a headstone, In a shady plot. I've been there twenty times, And can't even find the lot. You never wrote a letter, Your Bible we can't find. It's probably in some attic, Out of sight and out of mind. You first married a .... Smith, And just to set the tone. The other four were Sarah's, And everyone a Jones. You cost me two fortunes, One of which I did not have. My wife, my house and Fido, God, how I miss that yellow lab. But somewhere you slipped up, Ole Boy, Somewhere you left a track. And if I don't find you this year, Well .... Next year I'll be back! The story of a genalogist life's! Happy Hunting - Dale in Boston