A Resting Place for a Gypsy Man
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A Resting Place for a Gypsy Man
(For Thomas McCarthy and the family and friends of Shadrack Smith)
The kind earth sees no difference The cold clay hears no name Through the ages, all the resting Are one with one, the same.
No colour, race, ethnicity Will follow where we go; Just the thoughts, the memories That say: we loved you so!
For some folk relish snobbery And some despise your clothes; Some look up your pedigree, Some look down their nose.
Forget their little bigotry, And love each one instead, There’ll be no place for snobbery When each of us is dead;
And all their ranting’s over, And all their saying said, The kind earth knows our value And weights it when we’re dead.
So take the road, and bring him home And shed your tears and smiles. The long road where he loved to roam The endless Gypsy miles.
And place him in your sorrows, And love for ever more, In that gateway to bright meadows With all his kin before. — © Frank Callery.