Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, or, “The Genealogist’s Lament”

There are two, or possibly five, men in my family tree in three, or maybe five, generations around 1090 who had — you guessed it — three or possibly up to eight wives, who are giving me hair-tearing fits.

I don’t even want to tell you how many of these recursive and possibly fictitious people have the same names.

Because really.

So this is how I feel about these people right now:

Bulluc sterteþ
bucke uerteþ
murie sing cuccu

The Rabbit of Caerbannog

Needs no caption

And last but not least

Oh!! And then there’s this:

“Medievalist Shares Ripe Fruit Of Penis Tree”. I’m not posting the image here, because if I do, FB will perversely select that as the image to accompany this article; but it’s worth a looky-loo.

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