“Davis surename”

In trailing lines of family lore,  
A name resounds on every shore—  
*Davis*—woven through the years,  
Echoed loud from pioneers.

Welsh hills first bore that name aloft,  
Where lambs would bleat and winds blew soft,  
A “son of David,” strong and true,  
With faith and courage in each dew.

They crossed the seas to distant lands,  
Dreams folded tightly in their hands;  
From bustling London’s candle glow  
To Georgia’s fields, Dakota’s snow.

You’ll find the Davises at dawn,  
In Southern towns or Essex lawn,  
In city halls and skipping stones,  
In laughter bright or earnest tones.

From Jefferson who changed a land,  
To everyday folk, modest, grand—  
The Davis bond spans wide and far,  
Each heart a lamp, each hope a star.

So here’s to those of Davis line,  
Their stories etched by roots and time;  
A name, a torch, through night and days—  
A heritage that gently stays.

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