Poems: (Click on link below to go to poem)
A family tree is something we should retain,
For there is a dearth of knowledge to maintain,
Most times the trodden paths are left to fate,
And we find that our actions are just too late,
Too many people won't appear on any list,
For they have succumbed and don't exist,
Information is now left to hearsay and find,
That we must research, edit and store in kind.
We have before us a truly daunting task,
And there are many questions we must ask,
Many tiny snippets will surface from the past,
For us to catalogue the way the die was cast,
Black sheep, villains and more are in the game,
For us to learn what may be in any name,
Information will come from all directions,
That we must review and make the best selections.
From relatives who may be more than once removed,
Will answer our desperate plea that has behooved,
A near dormant inclination to remain aloof,
About a dream that lacks only a reply for proof,
That we had nearly waited too long to reflect,
And bring out the truth as a proven fact,
With this as a first and known admission,
To bring our arduous but rewarding task to fruition.
These important meetings have reunited our clan,
And shows how much family needs a working plan,
Our lifestyles have been varied from the start,
But not sufficient to always keep us apart,
Whatever gleanings may come our way,
We are richer and with true reverence say,
That for all the skeletons that were disturbed,
We have unearthed nothing to be perturbed.
Author Unknown: See if you can guess who it may possibly be!
(This poem was found with Nellie Quesnel's belongings after she passed away and is being shared by her daughter-in-law, Joyce Quesnel. Thanks Joyce!)
"Gold! and the mad stampede was on,
Hell bent, we rushed to stake
A claim in the new Eldorado
On the shares of Big Rice Lake.
First Captain Pellitier and Old Man Quesnel
Sent word of the Strike to the Dominion Hotel,
Miners, Prospectors and Farmers lived there,
You remember the spot on the old Market Square?
Foghorn McDonald and H. Angus too,
And others as well, each bought a canoe.
Salt Pork and beans and a lot of Hardtack,
With Blankets and Whiskey to fill the Packsack.
Scant were the funds and the trail it was long,
Stout were the hearts that were surging with song
To Sweethearts and Mothers they bid fond adieus,
Then away to the North sailed the bold Buckaroos.
There was Merrill, McKenzie and Jimmy Wrathall
Bud Wilson, Bill Ainslie and friend Captain Hall,
Fred Cheswright and Galer and old Tommy Hare,
Billy McConnell and his partner Jack Blair.
Frank Behrman, Bill Wisbul and others galore
Set out for a chunk of those riches in store,
Bill Walton, Joe Thomas and Willie Quesnel
Jack Irwin, George Vanson and Walter Dowdell.
Syd Clifford, Old Seymour and Duncan McLeod
Billy Kilpatrick, they followed the crowd.
Wild Jack McDonald and Frank Demeray
Ed Ervine, Jack Perrin and Old Rommy Fay.
George Baird, Enok Johnson and Our Little Mac
And Willie Boulette who was good on the Pack.
Two more McDonalds, Archie and Dan
George Edmonds, Bill Stevens and Walt Hefferran.
Roy Law, Alex Campbell, Oswald Quesnel
Joe Pliskey, George Cummings and Rommy Carswell,
W.K. Harding and Jack Papineau.
Sandy Grant, Gunnar Devlin and another named Lloyd
Charles Andres, George Woods and that man Alex Boyd
J. Parker Kirby, Don McLeod and Earl Kane,
Chris Hodgins, Big Murray and Gilbert LaBine.
Red More, Gordon Reahill, Frank Thomas and Joe Steele
They also were there for a turn of the wheel,
Helmer Gans and George Porter, E.L. "Happy" White
Dan McRae, Billy Fraser and one Copperthwaite.
Andy L. Anderson who hailed from Spokane
Bill Diggins, George Porter and old Whipsaw Dan,
Herbert G. Beresford who was first on survey
With assistants George Webber and young Jack McKay.
Joe Stance, Billy Driscoll, Quebec Tommy Hurd
All fell into line when they got the word.
Jack Hanson, Gus Gulbrandson, two old country Swedes
Ed Hoyt, Laurie Fisher, all went through the weeds.
Si Marples, Ed Bourke and Moses Fontaine
John Woods, Ryerson Bumstead and young Charlie Wayne,
The last in my song is the best I confess,
The name is McLeod, Yes! just Donald S." ...
"I guess I could go on for days,
To sing you songs of Dan McRae's,
Of hughie Smiths and the McVeighs
Of Webbers, Beresfords and Rommy Fays and others bodies.
But now the clock to the two is nearing
I'll quit my rant on pioneering
As both my eyes for sleep are tearing
So - now to bed - Goodnight."