My Family Tree in a Nutshell
When I started my Matthews genealogy, my family tree was a mere sapling.
I watched it grow limb by limb into a beautiful tree, all lush and green.
Now a forest of branches and twigs, with aunts and uncles I’ve never seen.
Up all night, I have to keep searching and do my best ‘til Burt says give it a rest.
Will someone please, tell me where is the young Sawyer; John Houston Matthews?
Add, Solon, Price and John D. all worked for a living, for this man, Houston,
Lumberjacks and loggers supplied the trees that left a mountain of sawdust at his feet.
He’s in here somewhere in this grove of trees I know; so maybe someday we’ll meet.
I keep thinking John Houston came to get me to work on his tree.
He knew Jan was covered up to the rafters with the stuff Irma left her.
At a hundred and five, Uncle Floyd went to meet his destiny.
Now Bill roams the world and writes it all down for us to read.
Though proud as she could be, Virgie seldom talked about her family.
Viola would joke, giggle, laugh and entertain, that was her call to fame.
Add and Price would surely pull a prank; even if it landed them in jail.
That’s where they would stay unless Houston paid their bail.
Price could shoot a pistol as we all know, ‘cause Bud has told us so.
Their older sister Mary Nora, wasn’t afraid
To stick a loaded shotgun into a stranger’s face,
We all knew his fate if he stole her husband’s plate.
Solon played the fiddle, Price strummed the guitar and John D. could sing,
Roy was at the piano while Floyd played the harmonica soulfully
William Frank “Sharp” was the Bugle boy from Co. F of the 11th Infantry.
Did I leave anyone out of this family tree?
Well I guess I did but it wasn’t my intent, who would have known
That Thomas Marion was really big brother Bob?
How that happened I’d like to know, why of course,
He took the name of his horse.
Our Military Heroes and Civil War Vets we honor with pride.
It’s hard to believe how this Matthews Tree has improved
With great-grand uncles and aunts; once or twice removed.
Now I say this with shame, there’s some I just can’t claim.
Male surnames are all over the place; in archives, libraries and cemeteries
Yet maiden names disappear and become such mysteries.
Male chauvinism you suppose? I just have to ask, (as my energy declines),
If it’s the ring that binds why did we marry so many times?
Notes and charts all over the floor; Files and folders block my door.
Something about this Matthews Tree, that keeps it growing by leaps and bounds.
Oops, is that another leaf I see? Oh, yes; a set of twins!
Now, that would make Viola grin.
I watched it grow limb by limb into a beautiful tree, all lush and green.
Now a forest of branches and twigs, with aunts and uncles I’ve never seen.
Up all night, I have to keep searching and do my best ‘til Burt says give it a rest.
Will someone please, tell me where is the young Sawyer; John Houston Matthews?
Add, Solon, Price and John D. all worked for a living, for this man, Houston,
Lumberjacks and loggers supplied the trees that left a mountain of sawdust at his feet.
He’s in here somewhere in this grove of trees I know; so maybe someday we’ll meet.
I keep thinking John Houston came to get me to work on his tree.
He knew Jan was covered up to the rafters with the stuff Irma left her.
At a hundred and five, Uncle Floyd went to meet his destiny.
Now Bill roams the world and writes it all down for us to read.
Though proud as she could be, Virgie seldom talked about her family.
Viola would joke, giggle, laugh and entertain, that was her call to fame.
Add and Price would surely pull a prank; even if it landed them in jail.
That’s where they would stay unless Houston paid their bail.
Price could shoot a pistol as we all know, ‘cause Bud has told us so.
Their older sister Mary Nora, wasn’t afraid
To stick a loaded shotgun into a stranger’s face,
We all knew his fate if he stole her husband’s plate.
Solon played the fiddle, Price strummed the guitar and John D. could sing,
Roy was at the piano while Floyd played the harmonica soulfully
William Frank “Sharp” was the Bugle boy from Co. F of the 11th Infantry.
Did I leave anyone out of this family tree?
Well I guess I did but it wasn’t my intent, who would have known
That Thomas Marion was really big brother Bob?
How that happened I’d like to know, why of course,
He took the name of his horse.
Our Military Heroes and Civil War Vets we honor with pride.
It’s hard to believe how this Matthews Tree has improved
With great-grand uncles and aunts; once or twice removed.
Now I say this with shame, there’s some I just can’t claim.
Male surnames are all over the place; in archives, libraries and cemeteries
Yet maiden names disappear and become such mysteries.
Male chauvinism you suppose? I just have to ask, (as my energy declines),
If it’s the ring that binds why did we marry so many times?
Notes and charts all over the floor; Files and folders block my door.
Something about this Matthews Tree, that keeps it growing by leaps and bounds.
Oops, is that another leaf I see? Oh, yes; a set of twins!
Now, that would make Viola grin.
