THE GENEALOGIST'S LAMENT

I started out calmly, tracing my tree,

To find, if I could, the making of me;

And all that I had was great grandfather's name,

Not knowing his wife or from which he came

I chased him across a long line of states,

And came up with pages and pages of dates.

When all put together, it made me forlorn;

I'd proved that poor granddad had never been born.

One day, I was sure the truth I had found,

Determined to turn this whole thing upside down.

I looked up the record of one Uncle John,

But then found the old man was as young as his son.

Then, when my hopes were fast growing dim,

I came across records that must have been him.

But the facts I collected made me quite sad,

Dear old great granddad was never a dad.

I think maybe someone is pulling my leg,

I'm not all sure I wasn't hatched from an egg,

After hundreds of pounds I've spent on my tree,

I cannot help but wonder if I'm really me.

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