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Markle Reunion in Hazleton, June 1998

And did you know we trace our lines
Far back before the days of George?
Indeed we have authentic signs
Of Markles in Olduvai Gorge.

The anthropologists have found
The Markle chin and higher brow,
'Mid fossils in that Afric land,
But we will skip that part for now.

A later Heinrich Merklen, deft,
In Lubek, fourteen-thirty, was.
His son and heir, Johannes, left--
He moved to Strassburg in Alsace.

Johannes then Oswald begat
And Oswald, he begat, in turn,
A lad named Hans, and he begat
Young Christian, as I learn.

A merchant, he, who moved to Metz,
And sired Peter, as you know;
Then Peter follows and begets
A second Peter, now in tow.

Now Merklens spoke the German tongue;
Were naturally Protestants,
But Louis Fourteenth had begun,
And he revoked Edict of Nantes.

Which Henry of Navarre had writ,
Four hundred years ago this year!
The Huguenots had seen that fit,
But now they reckoned, "Time to fear."

So Johann Christian, Peter's first,
He moved with them to Amsterdam,
And married rich Jemimma Wertz,
Then said he didn't give a damn.

He took her to the colonies,
And then he took her packing back,
Wed Anna Brucker, if you please,
And soon was on the proper track.

In seventeen-eighteen, so it seems,
To Pennsylvania they came,
And settled at Moselem Springs;
Established well the Markle name.

In seventeen and twenty-one,
Another Peter soon was born,
Who grew, begat and had some fun;
Eleven children were the norm.

His boy, young Christian Markle, now,
In Revolutionary War,
Was Captain, I don't know just how,
He must have been superior.

For he begat John Christian, staid,
Who up to Bloomsburg made his ways;
A saddler he was by trade;
He died of cancer of the face.

But not before he raised a son:
George Bushar Markle was his name,
A brilliant lad who soon begun
In Anthracite to wealth and fame.

By innovations, in-ven-ti-ons,
He really made the Markle dough,
But also left a brainy brood
With skillful enterprise and go.

Emily Robison was his wife,
Who bore to him eight kids in all.
But three died young and left in life:
John, Chlora, Ida, George, and Al.

Now Alvan was the one we know,
To banking, mining, business fain.
He started power and made grow,
The phone, the trolley, electric train.

Then he and Mary Dryfoos, wife,
They had some clever progeny
Al, Eckley, Don and Emily,
And Jack for all posterity.

I'll not go on, for you all know
Which noble branch from whence you sprung,
But I must leave you with this show
For Alvan Third, whose life begun,

Some eighty years ago this year;
The twelveth of June to be exact,
Our Dear Kind Tersh we hereby cheer,
We love him much, and that's a fact.