Some Sunday morning stuff

Ancestors are interesting. Two parents, and 4 grandparents mean you come from at least 4 locations, or lines. Both of my Grandparents on one side come from Wales. Llanllwni, to be specific. Course that town is just for one of them. That is my cousin Bob standing by the sign a few years ago.

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Today I had some time on my hands, which is rare on Sunday's, so I was looking through some old correspondence and sent off a few notes to folks I had not connected with in a long time. Passed on some pictures too. I cam across a story about Malad Idaho so just for the blog of it, here it is.

William Cole (aka known as Billy The Kid) rode into Malad in the spring of 1869. He was wounded and suffering from severe wounds. He fell in love with a widow lady with four kids and married her. Her name was Susan Palmer Debuke. They built a cabin in the St John area. The cabin still stands on Tom Palmer property. They had one child after being married for a year, but he suddenly up and left town without warning. The little girl child and her mother left Malad and joined her parents in Peru Nebraska where she died in 1924. Jesse left a poem for his wife titled: GRASSHOPPERS AND CRICKETS:

Things look desperate and awfully sad.
For we are just about to bury the city of Malad..
Their long melancholy faces with their sad frowns
To see the last shovel full thrown on the town,
Their will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth
If the revolation fails to give them relief.
Oh! what a burying it would be,
It would break many a heart
When boys from their true lovers will have to depart.
They will wander througth the valley among sage brush and thickets,
To leave old Malad to the grasshoippers and crickets
They must throw aside lieing with others deceit,
for the devil make take them all in a heap.
Remember old Malad has drawn its last breath
And all we can do is announce its great death.
For the devil has charmed them by some unknown spell
For the first thing we know we are all heaped up in hell.
If the people don't try to make some resistance
I will bid farewell and disappear in the distance.
I will hoist my sails and hoist my banner
And bid farewell to my own dear Anne.
For I think for our move we are the devils relations
And he can't help us by his revelation
And all we can do is to buy our traveling ticket
And leave old Malad to the Grasshoppers and crickets.
William Cole Year 1870

(original spelling and words in the poem)