There once was a Twitcher named Mary
Who went off to seek a Canary.
Stray winds blew her North to the Dales.
And instead she found several Wagtails.
While she considered her plight
The York Gen crew hovered in sight,
And welcomed her into their “Week”,
Twas ancestors they planned to seek.
She listened a lot to their thrills
And learned about Cockshots and wills.
And Rudds, that apparently thrived,
Making Lorna Doone’s John come alive.
Ah but Lorna wed John Ridd, by name,
Rudd or Ridd, it just might be the same.
While the cricket team welcomed the dawn
She observed a Goldfinch on the lawn
And then watched men protesting at Minster.
Their intrusion, now was it a sin, Sir?
Beck Isle was Victorian Treasure
Heaped up for the modern world’s pleasure.
At ev-er-y hand were devices
For harvesting turnips, --- in slices?
In case “bad” your turnips should go
There were fun-er-al carts in a row.
Burton Agnes, a charming retreat
Then welcomed her swift, prancing feet.
The garden and house, time did span,
Till she came nose to nose with Gauguin.
At Bridlington down by the sea,
She consumed fish and chips with pure glee,
Then a fellow named Colin was found
Who tramped with the York Gen around
The City of York about seven.
And told why it fair rivals Heaven.
A rabbity creature or hare
Met Mary next morning to stare
And send her to Murton Park, hopping,
To tea with two Peacocks and shopping.
Dane Village was all thatch and wattle
And Roman Guards threatened to throttle.
Next Archives took over, to show
On computers these York Gens aren’t slow.
Mary found a book full of place names
And pinned down some ancestral claims.
That evening a chap without woe-y
Showed the wedding of his daughter Zoe,
Then the photo show wandered to Eire
A trip to that isle to inspire.
On Speaker’s Day all did acclaim
The name Colin had gathered more fame.
Thus far three men named Colin have spoken.
That must be a Yorkshire love token.
In evening the group did The Wall
Assuring the Twitcher, “Tis small”.
But of course it wasn’t at all.
And she felt that her knees just might fall.
“Cross the gap” we are ready to help Thee
Said several, before she could flee.
Then we munched at Bedern – to a nibble
it ran
And we met with a Lady who was a Freeman.
Last journey it rained and it rained
And it sprinkled and mizzled I fear
So industrial Bradford in damp did appear
And the group found a PUB
To dry out --- or not
I’ll end at this spot.
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