Grandma Climbs 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 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 wash 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 shirt, the
flowerbed's a sight.
She's given up her club work, the serials
on TV,
The only thing she does nowadays is climb
the 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.
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.
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 & 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 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...
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