Moore, Anthony DeCoursey
09 Jan

Moore, Anthony DeCoursey

Published in OBITUARIES K - 0

Age 71, of Airy Hill, St. George and formerly of Vauxhall, Christ Church. Retired Truck Driver of R. L. Seale and Company Limited. Former Cricketer of BET Over Forty Cricket Team.

Son of the late Whitfield and Eileen Moore.

Dear Husband of Betty Moore.

Father of Troy Moore, Juliet Burnett and Fabian Gittens.

Stepfather of Dawn Headley, Corey and Travis Forde.

Grandfather of five.

Brother of Reginald and Pearson Moore and the late Wendell Moore.

Brother-in-law of Sandra and Nadine Moore.

Relative of the Moore, Taylor, Walcott and Douglas families.

Friend of the Dawe and Forde families of Airy Hill, St George, the Collymore and Evans families of Vauxhall, Christ Church and many others.

The funeral of Anthony DeCoursey Moore leaves Downes and Wilson Funeral Home, Eagle Hall, St. Michael on Wednesday, January 16th, 2019 at 12:30 p.m. for Vauxhall Methodist Church, Christ Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for the service. The funeral will then proceed to the Christ Church Cemetery for the interment.

The Organist is asked to attend.

Wreaths may be sent to Downes and Wilson Funeral Home no later than 12:00 noon on Wednesday.

Relatives and friends may pay their last respects at Downes and Wilson Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Tuesday.

Condolences may be sent to:

Last modified on Wednesday, 09 January 2019 18:35
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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.