A Royal Marriage

©copyright 2004 Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C. 032404

One of my grandfathers, thrice great or more, 
 came from Britain to America's shore.
British aristocrats, he and his wife, 
 quickly gained rich land without any strife:
his slaves worked that Virginia plantation.
Those were the Quesinberry relations.

Soon there were daughters catching young men's eyes,
and handsome sons: tall, strong, ready to ride.
The youngest set out to see this country,
his Dad's slave driver he just could not be.
He traveled up and down all the southwest,
experienced hardships and a few tests.

Then one day, he met the girl of his dreams;
and, he must have been made for her, it seems,
for with her father it soon was agreed:
"Prepare a royal wedding," was decreed.
She was a princess with long silken hair,
graceful in stride with features fine and fair.

Young Quesinberry started his new life,
wrote he would be bringing home his new wife. 
Slaves rushed to spiffy up the plantation,
planning many gala preparations.
That royal bride must see them at their best,
a highly polished rich family's crest.

The awaited day finally arrived,
two riders rode up the stately, long drive.
Rejoicing turned to dismay and alarm:
There was an Indian on this son's arm.
They could not cotton to a Cherokee,
did not matter how royal or pretty.

Thus, it was this son promptly was disowned,
Ne'er again to see family or home.
And soon, the spelling of the name was changed,
Cherokee letters subtly rearranged.
There are only a few Quesinberry's,
and some of those spell it Quisinberry. 

My grandfather once asked for my own thoughts
about this tree Quesinberry's had wrought!
Knowing my boldness, members held their breath,
certain I would anger him, cause his death.
"They were a bunch of snobs," I bluntly said.
His laughter roared as his face turned bright red.

So, I'm a little Cherokee princess,
Then another bit of German empress,
And a wee bonnie lass of Irish cream,
together with some French and Brit, it seems.
Can't leave out Castilian Spanish quarter.
All these should just about set the mortar.

Of course, mentioned was the big plantation;
So, who can say who are my relations?
Whoever and whatever, I love all.
They were a bunch of snobs! That is my call.
Perhaps, she's why I love nature's features:
trees and flowers, and all of God's creatures.

Meter:10