I found the following poem while going through my late uncle's genealogical research papers. Thought it was cute with a lot of truth. Clay The Family Tree I think that I shall never see The finish of a family tree. As it forever seems to grow from roots that started very low; 'Way back in ancient history times, In foreign lands and distant climes, From them grew trunk and branching limb, That dated back to time so dim, One seldom knows exactly when The parents met and married then, Nor when the twigs began to grow Wwith odd named children, row on row. Though a verse like this is made by me And the end's in sight as you can see; It is not the same with family trees That grow and grow through centuries. by: Willis G. Corbitt, Feb. 7, 1960 This was printed in the "Beaver Briefs" section of the Beaver, Oklahoma newspaper.