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Welcome

Contents

Fellow Researchers

Day

Byrne

Families We Are Researching

Moore

Known Branches

Our Convict

Seven Direct Female Generations

Do You Recognise Photo

Victoran Post Masters 1855

Cemetery Inscriptions Glendalough

Holt Baptisms

Pratt Baptisms

Moore Births Dromara

Milnrow Chapel

Ships Our Ancestors Arrived On

Digby Cemetery

Burials for

Barns/Barnes;Clegg;

Eastwood;Holt

Lee.Lord.Turner.Whitehead

Brunton

Allardice

Pratt From County Laois

Web Rings

Awards

Eastwood/Patchett

For whom The Bell Tolled

John Dixon

Skirke Churchyard Inscriptions

Links

Poems 1

Poems2

Poems3

Contact Us

Poems

WHEN I LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND

 

I KNOW I MILLIONAIRE

IS BURDENED DOWN WITH CARE

AND LOVE IS ON HIS MIND

HE'S THINKING OF THE DAY

WHEN HE MUST PASS AWAY

AND LEAVE HIS WORLD BEHIND

 

I HAVEN'T ANY GOLD

TO LEAVE WHEN I GROW OLD

SOMEHOW IT PASSED ME BY

I'M VERY POOR BUT STILL

I LEAVE A PRECIOUS WILL

WHEN I MUST SAY GOODBYE

 

I LEAVE THE SUNSHINE TO THE FLOWERS

I LEAVE THE SPRINGTIME TO THEIR DREAMS

AND TO THE OLD FOLK, I'LL LEAVE A MEMORY

OF A BABY UPON THEIR KNEES

I LEAVE A NIGHTTIME TO THE DREAMERS

I LEAVE THE SONGBIRDS TO THE BLIND

I LEAVE THE MOON ABOVE TO THOSE IN LOVE

WHEN I LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND

 

 

Strangers in The Box

 

Come, look with me inside this drawer,

In this box Iv’e often seen,

At the pictures, black and white,

Faces proud, still, and serene.

 

I wish I knew the people,

These strangers in the box,

Their names and all their memories,

Are lost among my socks.

 

I wonder what their lives were like,

How did they spend their days?

What about their special times?

I’ll never know their ways.

 

If only someone had taken time,

To tell who, what, where and when,

These faces of my heritage,

Would come to life again.

 

Could this become the fate,

Of the pictures we take today?

The faces and the memories,

Someday to be passed away?

 

Take time to save your stories,

Seize the opportunity when it knocks,

Or someday you and yours,

Could be strangers in the box.

 

                                                        Author: Pam Harazim

 

No Footprints in the Sands of Time

 

It's nice to come from gentle folks

Who wouldn't stoop to brawl,

Who never took a lusty poke

At anyone at all!

 

Who never raised a raucous shout

At any country inn,

Or calmed an ugly fellow lout

With a belaying pin!

 

Who never shot at a revenuer

Hunting for a still,

Who never rustled cattle

and agreed with Uncle's will!

 

Who lived life as they ought

without uncouth distraction,

And shunned like leprosy a thought

of taking legal action!

 

It's nice to come from gentle folk

Who 've never know disgrace

But oh, though scandal is no joke

It's far easier to trace!

 

                                                         Author Unknown

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