There has been much research and questions as to the identity of George's biological parents. He was the adopted son of OCM Bates or Orsamus Cook Merril Bates of St. Joseph County, Michigan. Recently, a poem has come to light that George wrote about his sister Keziah Bates Name. This poem definitively ties Keziah Bates Wescott Name as a biological sister of George.

Poem follows below:

The Life And Death Of Three
by George R. Bates

We once had a sister dear,
Which to us was very near,
Although we think of her just the same,
And Kaziah was her name.

Now we will go back as you may see,
She was one of six, next to me,
And as in youth, we together played,
While she with her parents stayed.

We had no father dear
To care for us all, in the coming years,
So we were scattered, we don't know where,
One here, and another there.

Jarus chose the way he loved best,
In doing this, left all the rest.
Now we will leave him in his glory,
And go on with another story.

And as she went on from year to year,
She found the one that was very dear,
That brought to her so much gain,
And George Spencer was his name.

Then we find him busy as a bee,
This we everyday could see,
In building boats to cary flower, (may mean flour)
This was his work from hour to hour.

Then they bought a village lot, I can't tell where,
I know that it was so, cause I was there.
How long they stayed, I cannot tell,
We find them in Hickory Grove to dwell.

There to farming, they thought best,
Until they got the fever, for the West,
And as the western fever, was the rage,
There they went to driving stage,

And they lived in Janesville,
Their ambition to fulfill.
And as he toiled and drove his team,
A very few days, as it would seem,
Sickness came with unyielding grasp,
And laid the loved one down at last,
For to me, he was given,
I gave him up to my Father In Heaven.

Then with a heart filled with grief and woe,
Back to Michigan, I did go.
And getting tired and lonesome here,
She married Mr. Wescot dear.

Now this life I can hardly see,
But it always seemed to me,
That a journey to the west,
They both thought it would be best.

How many years they lived to stay,
That, is hard for me to say.
We learn of that in a coming year,
Staying with her daughter dear.

And as the years rolled by with pain constant,
I did not wish to live there over again,
Then her Father laid her down among the blest.
By the side of George, that had gone to set rest.

Now we'll speak of the last dear year,
That has lived and loved so many,
A time does come to one and all,
When they must obey their Father's call.

And as I look back upon the three,
How solam (sp) it did seem to me,
That there they lay among the dead,
And no more tears on Earth to shed.

This was before the cars did run,
That this work was all begun,
Staying…….the Prairie while,
With the fare six cents a mile.

There the wolves together played,
And by your road side there they stayed.
The buffalo and the bear,
And the wild man had his ware…(?)

Now our story is all told,
……(illegible)…back to days of old,
The best thing now, that is in view,
Is to all live in the Earth made new.

Yours Truly,
G. R. Bates