As our third year draws to a close, Combs Researchers wax poetic -- our very own ballad:

'Twas the night of Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring
but Carole and her mouse

Shod in new slippers
and clad in plaid flannels
she taps out an email
one most brief in Combs annals

Despite the late hour
she's full of good cheer
for the Combs have completed
their third great year

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to All!
--Carole Hammett

'Tis boxing day in Britain we ken
Our families and friends enjoying the din.
So much to remember and reflect on the year
Of triumphs and troubles, and a bit of good cheer.

Carole's all snuggled down deep in her bed
While visions of web pages dance in her head.
Her family, her friends all wish her good stead,
Plaid flannels-- I love it, well that's what she said!!

There's Debi and Lynda, Birdie and Bob
Be sure there is Denis and Butch in the mob.
And George and Susan, Ken, Tina, and Paul
So many it hurts just thinking of all.

There's Kent and Jean and Norma, of course
With Peter and Hannah and Les and Marilyn
(Peggy resides in the back of the house)
With Barb chiming in on our new ALHN.

So many friends and family to find and to know
How could I forget the continuous flow?
Bear with me, I'm aging, the short-term on fade
So post your information, thru which I can wade.

We're Combs [&tc] as you well know
As into our fourth FREE year we go.
And before my own circuits blow
Be sure to tell us "How do you know?"

NADOLIG LLAWEN A BLWYDD NEWDD DDA 2000
--Barbara Jones

How do I know? Because it snowed
and the E MAILS surely showed
That Santa's sleigh slid across the sky
dropping info that made us high.

Books, dusty, old and new
Made their way to me and you
A few more secrets were revealed
Now the mole hole is a  hill

Until the hill becomes a mountain
our ancestors we will be counting
Collected info was documented
Even as homes were being pine scented

Christmas slowed the team a little
But not one did their thumbs twiddle
As families gathered in holiday cheer
there were endless questions in the air.

When you think you are at the end
Your are at the beginning again
Another branch, another twig
"Did grandma really wear a wig

Christmas cheer has again come to past
But Combs researchers just last and last
Drink the last of the eggnog and go to sleep
The rest of your EMAIL till morning will keep
--Brenda Kay Combs Miller

All the documents and clutter, have taken us over
All the census’ and wills can make all of us shudder
There are death records, birth records, land records and such
And our families don’t thank us all that much!

Carole with her nudges, to keep us in line
Debi with her quick answers when WE can’t find the time
Lynda’s good luck for living in Kentucky
Her access to Frankfort makes us all lucky

Me with my addiction for reading old writing
The need for perfection makes us come out fighting
Geneva with her sweetness, puts us to shame
And to think that this list is because of a name!

I’ve been on this list forever and ever,
My mailbox bulges with letter after letter
From Birdie and Butch, and Jimmie and Jeanette
Carolyn and Joe Kendall, how good can it get!

From David and Barjo, Barbara and Sue
Hannah and Susan, and Norma and Bryan, too
From Jimmie and Leslie, George, Bob and Pat
To all our past and present researchers, I tip my hat

I wish for the coming year, before I forget
Bring us documents that are buried in courthouses yet
And by next Christmas, we want a clue
To the question of when and where Grandpa was born
And to who?
--Louise Gaskill

When I was a child,
I thought my name rare,
And honestly found it
A burden to bear.

But as I've researched
The "Combs" far and wide,
I've learned to claim it
With pleasure and pride.

Some Combs were famous.
Some were real poor.
Most lived quite simply,
But some wanted more.

They were sheriffs
And farmers and preachers
And soldiers and
Mothers and teachers.

A Combs knew The Bard;
George wrote one Combs guy;
They wore blue AND gray;
Some were blue as the sky!

They survive in us cousins,
So we should keep on,
For as long as we "know" them,
They're never quite gone.
--Susan Combs Hefner

I found the Combs List over a year ago
Looking for my Jerry Combs high and low.
I searched all over that ole devil, Rootsweb
Hoping to find G Grandpa who was already dead.

I never knew so many named Jerry
And Dang, they were all born in Perry!
Didn't know what I was going to do
I was starting to feel sad and  blue.

Then I ran across a posted D C
Written by a man named Jimmie.
So I wrote him a long letter
I just wanted to feel better.

He was nice and wrote back
Said I was on the wrong track.
With his help, set me straight
My fanily tree, I couldn't wait!

So I joined them Combses on the List
Most of them from the Perry Co mist.
Who have them traced back to John Combe
And now I feel like I have come home.

Then I met Norma, a very nice gal
Wow, another Combs, and a new pal.
Then there was Geneva, Louise, Debi and more.
And there's Carole to make sure nothing is just lore.

Too many Jerrys, Johns, and Nicholas's, too
Keeping them all straight, I can not do.
But I'm glad I joined in the Combs List
I feel like I'm home in the Perry Co mist.
--Lynda Combs Gipson

Ain't no poet....noet.
--Les Combs

It all started that night, a question so simple
With, I wonder where, my baby got that dimple?
The story took off, and boy did it grow
 Names and the stories, falling like snow

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a long line of past family, that now are so dear
I know they are gone, we  never will meet
But from what they say, my kids have their feet

So please on this Christmas, of Ninety-nine
Santa help us discover more of our line
We won't ask for presents under the tree
Just give me that name, and happy I'll be

Hey , Carol, we're excited as we can be
you've kept our lines going out,  and  STILL FREE
You work so hard, looking out for our rights
Sometimes, I see you in the ring, wearing tights

And they heard me exclaim , as I  signed off the site
A poet, I'll  never be,   and that  is all  right
I've never  completed a list of  great  poems
But this one I'll finish, cause we're talkin  Combs

Happy New Year to all
--Marge Leevey

Christmas with the Combs's
I can hardly wait,
For talking about family,
it's never too late

We reminisce and wonder,
and put our minds to the test,
we keep on persevering while our husbands yell "put it to rest!"

We compare our lineage and census,
and our husbands are yelling,
"Have you lost your senses?"

As we bask in our pride,
and look far and wide,
our husbands still yelling,
Do we dare yet hide?

I must bring this to an end,
as you might see,
us Combs'es are busy,
busy as a bee.

So goodbye for this year,
and Merry Christmas to all.
Have a Joyous New Year,
and good luck to y'all
--Susie Combs-Flohr