This is a story in the style called rap
that’ll surely encourage an afternoon nap
of a family of seven, their kids and their wives
and something regarding their travels and lives.
Now first there was Greg, a Brooklyn-born lad;
and then it was Lucy that Mom and Dad had.
She was born at Sing Sing (no, not in the jail).
They left the U.S., for Brazil they set sail,
and there in October, in the village Niteroi,
number three joined the family, yes ’twas a boy:
Estavao in Brazil, but in America, Steve;
then eighteen months later all decided to leave.
‘Twas São Paulo the city they all set out for,
and there it was Don who became number four.
But Brazil didn’t like population explosion,
so a return to America was the course chosen.
They reached California, all well and alive,
and the four were then joined by a girl, No. 5.
Virginia they called her, but Jeannie will do,
a redhead addition to the Holmesian crew.
But that didn’t end the family augmentation,
for Doug soon joined the Holmes congregation.
If six, why not seven, so Bill joined the crowd,
and that was the end, no more were allowed.
Then Lucy left home, she went and got spliced,
and soon came a boy, Michael was his name,
destined in time for disk-jockey fame.
Greg then thought married life would be dandy,
so he wed June, had Aileen, Brian, Andy.
Jeannie was next to leave the Holmes fold;
she and John Brouns formed their own household,
and Tiffany and Thomas before long begat,
also acquiring a horse, dog and cat.
Next it was Don’s turn, and to Reno he ran,
plighting his troth with Doctor Diane.
Then followed Steve, the mathematician;
now he and Denise await an addition.
Five down, two left: it’s Doug and it’s Bill;
who’ll be next? D’ya think they ever will?
Surely this is the poorest of poems,
but what d’ya expect for a family named Holmes?
[Anonymous Wendell Holmes]