(Written originally) July 25, 2017

From my Father’s ancestral line I have 5 times, Great Grandfather John Cooke II born June 28, 1752. He, along with Eleanor “Nellie” Goodall (his future wife) born April 6, 1756, were kidnapped from London as young teens, with a promise of a fun day aboard a ship sailing down and back again on the Thames River. They never saw London or their families ever again. They were sold into slavery. Servitude some like to call it, because they were white.

John worked out his “Servitude” and helped Nellie pay off hers. They married had four sons and became not just pioneers of this new country, but fought for it’s freedom from England. They were very instrumental in the growth of West Virginia and this is a poem I recently found lauding the virtues and accomplishments of the Cooke family and am proud to share ?

The Cook Family of Wyoming County
By ROY LEE HARMON
Poet-Laureate of West Virginia
Read at a Cook Reunion and appeared in the Princeton Observer Newspaper. Probably written late 1930’s or early 1940’s.

God must have smiled long, long ago and called this valley good
This land of scenic splendor where the oaks and poplars stood
Oh, I can picture long gone days when red men came this way
To hunt and fish and pitch their tents near where we stand today
And I can picture bear and deer here in Wyoming hills
The silence of the wilderness among the rocks and rills.
And here was wealth the Redskin braves had never dreamed about
And here were sites for homes of men whose hearts were good and stout
No white man, save a roving stray called Milam then had seen
This land of fertile valleys and of hillsides lush and green
But John Cook, Prince of Pioneers, his rifle on his arm
Came forth to build a cabin and clear out a little farm
Now John Cook left the quiet life and took a long, long chance
To settle in Wyoming (County), land of promise and romance
He didn’t walk a well-chopped trail some other man had made
He was a Cook, remember, so he led the big parade
It took a lot of doing to get settled in the hills
It took a lot of chopping, building homes and water mills
It took a lot of nerve and grit and courage and hard work
But Cooks have never been the kind who chose to loaf or shirk
John built a home – made empire where the mountain skies looked down Where men wore buckskin breeches – and there wasn’t any town
But he lived on and prospered, and his children prospered, too
Where God smiled on Wyoming – and the skies were mighty blue
And Cooks were up the creek and down the creek and everywhere
And they were good Americans, the kind who do and dare
American as ham and eggs, as dauntless as could be
The kind of mountaineers, my friends, who always shall be free
The dim gray years went sliding by the country growing up
This family quaffed the bitter or the sweet within life’s cup
Yes, quaffed it well and asked no odds from this strange thing called fate and never dealt in evil ways, dishonestly or hate
They helped to build the churches and they furnished preachers, too
A Cook could always grub or hoe or plow or preach or hew
They built the schools and highways, yes, they kept the modern pace
And I’m proud to visit with them any time or any place
In olden times when wars came on the Cooks were right and ready
Their eyes were clear, their hearts were true, their hands were always steady Oh, when duty’s trumpet sounded no one ever had to look
The second time to locate anyone whose name was Cook
The Cooks are running stores or farms or sawmills or they’re teaching
Or dabbling some in politics or real estate, or preaching
John Cook is dead – his spirit lives and is an inspiration
For brawny men like modern Cooks who helped to build this nation
And now we face the future which is just a mystic haze
When our Uncle Sam is threatened with some very trying days
But we’d be calm and happy, we would wear no worried looks
If the whole United States was just about filled up with Cooks
No, we’d just relax and say, just that fellow Hitler rave
No American will ever be a foolish Nazi slave
For the Cooks will fight injustice and we know that they will win
If oppressors want a battle let them simply buckle in
Cooks are honest friends and neighbors, they’re the kind I like to praise They’re Americans. . . who’ll figure in the news in future days
If I wrote down all their virtues, I would fill a dozen books
May God bless this noble family – the old Wyoming Cooks…
Oceana And the Cook Family Number 6 – Folk Studies AUGUST 1940