In memory of
RALPH CRISCUOLO
In memory of
RALPH CRISCUOLO
CRISCUOLO, RALPH Beside your grave I often stand, with heart both crushed and sore, And in the gloom the sweet words come, "Not lost, but gone before." God knows how much I miss you. He counts the tears I shed and whispers, "She only sleeps, your loved one is not dead." So I'll be brave, dear father, And pray to god each day. And when he calls me home with you, your smile, will guide the way. Your Loving Son, Henry
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In memory of
RALPH CRISCUOLO
CRISCUOLO, RALPH Beside your grave I often stand, with heart both crushed and sore, And in the gloom the sweet words come, "Not lost, but gone before." God knows how much I miss you. He counts the tears I shed and whispers, "She only sleeps, your loved one is not dead." So I'll be brave, dear father, And pray to god each day. And when he calls me home with you, your smile, will guide the way. Your Loving Son, Henry
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