Alleyne, Charles Beresford
10 Jul
2018

Alleyne, Charles Beresford

Published in OBITUARIES A - E

Charles Beresford Alleyne, age 88, better known as “George Years”, of 51 St. Silas Heights, St. James and formerly of London, England and Rock Hall, St. Andrew, Husband of Carmen Alleyne, Son of the late Charles and Gertrude Alleyne, Father of Tracy Alleyne-Samuel, Diane Clinton of the U.S.A. and the late Kaye Blackett, Grandfather of Shikira, Courtney and Marvin Alleyne-Samuel of the U.K., Tracey and Elvis Blackett and Symmon Clinton, Great-grandfather of Kadejah, Nathan and Kareem, Father-in law of Johney Samuel, Brother of Victor and Milton Alleyne, Everil Smith, Joyce Wallace and Hazel Osbourne - all of the U.S.A., Patsy Reid of the UK, Violet Foster and Dorothy Brathwaite, Muriel Mayers and Elaine Haynes of Trinidad, Uncle Harcourt Alleyne, David, Jackie and Renee Reid of the U.K., Leila Hewitt, Coswin, Ken, Alvin, Andrew Foster, Mackie Best and many others, Cousin of many, Friend of many.

The funeral of Charles Beresford Alleyne leaves Greaves Funeral Home, Church Hill, St. Lucy on Saturday 07th July, 2018 for St. Silas Anglican Church, Waterhall, St. James where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for the service of thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to St. James Cemetery for the interment.

The Organist and members of the Church Choir are asked to attend.

Flowers may be sent to Greaves Funeral Home no later than 12:15 p.m. on Saturday.

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

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  • 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.