Payne, Fitzgerald

Payne, Fitzgerald
14 Dec

Fitzgerald Payne, age 87, better known as “Fitzy,” of Chancery Lane, Christ Church and formerly of Washington, DC, U.S.A , Son of Benjamin Best and Delcina Payne of Parish Land, Christ Church, Loving Husband of Dorothy “Baba” Payne, Brother of Benjamin “Ben” and Clarence “Chille” Payne, Doreen and Meta Payne, Medline Nurse and Enid Ramsey, Clifford and “Dodie” Payne, Father of Trevor Leroy Best, O’Neil, Annrell and Fitz Barry Payne, Grandfather of Mark and Richard Springer, Jamelle, Sardai, Cameron and Tyler Payne, Casheera and Alicia Best, Leroy Broomes and Keisha Hercules, Relatives of many, Friend of many

The funeral of Fitzgerald Payne leaves Clyde B. Jones Funeral Home, Top Rock, Christ Church on Friday, December 15th, 2017 at 12:30 p.m. for Providence Methodist Church, Providence Hill, Christ Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for the Service of Thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to Christ Church Cemetery for the interment.

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

Floral tributes may be delivered to Clyde B. Jones Funeral Home no later than 12:00 noon on Friday.

No mourning colours by special request

Visitation takes place at the Chapel of Clyde B. Jones Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Thursday.

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  • Stop all the clocks
    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song, I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong' The stars are not wanted now, put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.