Maloney, Colvyn DeCoursey

Maloney, Colvyn DeCoursey
12 Sep
2018

Age 78, of Catford, London, England. Formerly of Barracks Road, Bank Hall, St. Michael. Husband of Elaine Maloney.

Father of Rodney, Kim and Ian Maloney of the U.K.

Brother of Michael Maloney of Canada, Avril McCollin of Main Avenue, Eden Lodge, St. Michael, the late Grafton, Norma and Robert Maloney.

Uncle of Patrick Maloney, Andrea Austin of the U.K., Kevin and Natalie Maloney of Canada and many others.

Brother-in-law of Margaret Maloney, Mabel Maloney of Canada, Gloria and Frank Barker of the U.S.A. and Henderson McCollin.

Relative of the Maloney, Broomes, Sandiford and Sealy families and many others.

Friend of many.

The funeral of Colvyn DeCoursey Maloney leaves Keith Jones Funeral Home, Passage Road, St. Michael on Saturday 15th September, 2018 at 8:30 a.m. for All Souls Anglican Church, Bank Hall, St. Michael where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 10:00 a.m. for a service of thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to Westbury Cemetery for the interment.

The organist and members of the church choir are asked to attend.

Floral tributes may be sent to Keith Jones Funeral Home no later than 8:00 a.m. on Saturday.

Visitation will take place in the Chapel of Keith Jones Funeral Home from 4:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m. on Friday.

Condolences can be sent to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

  • Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
    Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightening they Do not go gentle into that good night.   Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.   Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.