Codrington, Christopher Tennyson

Codrington, Christopher Tennyson
21 Dec
2017

Christopher Tennyson Codrington, of Golden Ridge Plantation, Golden Ridge, St. George, Member of the Ushers’ Guild of Christ Church Parish Church, former Proprietor of the now defunct Starline Supermarket and Mobil Gas Station, Bay Street, St. Michael, Husband of Lynthia Codrington, Father of the Reverend Suzanne Ellis - Rector of St. Augustine Church, Lysle, Hainsley, Anthony and Maxine Codrington of Republic Bank Barbados Limited, Grandfather of four, Brother of Jean Codrington-Savage, Ava Clarke and Grace Codrington both of Canada, Uncle of many, Father-in-law of Dr. The Honourable Henrick Ellis, Relative of the Codrington, Harewood, Brathwaite, Smith, Sealy, Thompson, Waithe and Mapp families


The funeral of Christopher Tennyson Codrington leaves Clyde B. Jones Funeral Home, Top Rock, Christ Church on Wednesday, December 27th, 2017 at 1:30 p.m. for Christ Church Parish Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 3:00 p.m. for a Thanksgiving Service, followed by the interment in the churchyard.


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

Visitation takes place at the Chapel of Clyde B. Jones Funeral Home from 10:00 a.m. until 12: 00 noon on Saturday.


To express condolences visit www.clydebjonesfuneralhome.com

  • 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.