The following poem was authored by my grandmother's brother Bramwell Quinton of Charleston, and sent to me by my aunt Violet Quinton. It was printed in a newspaper, presumably The Clarenville Packet.

The Prodigal Son

Oh what caused this young man his home for to leave,
And how could he cause his old father to grieve.
His thoughts may have wandered to places afar,
Not thinking his wanderings his whole life would mar.

How well do we feel how his father did long
For that son who rebelled and decided to roam;
How he longed for the day when his son he would see,
And the family again they united would be.

But that wayward boy for a while he enjoyed
The pleasures of life, on life's highway so wide.
'Twas then he found out that before very long
His friends they all vanished, his money was gone.

He then looked for work, and a job he then got
Feeding pigs for a man if he liked it or not.
He was oh so hungry, their food he could eat
To satisfy hunger it could be quite a treat.

It was then he did ponder about his old home,
He came to himself saying, "Why did I roam,
While my father's servants had bread and to spare
While I perish with hunger when I'm staying here.

"I will go to my father and say unto him,
'Father, against Heaven and thee have I sinned;
I am not worthy they son for to be
Just being your servant would be alright for me'."

He arose then in haste to his father he went,
He knew he'd get pardon if he would repent.
His father he saw him, his heart filled with joy,
He kissed and embraced him, his wandering boy.

This parable used by our Saviour to show
hat wherever we wander, tho' far we may go
The door of God's mercy it still stands ajar
For the prodigal child who have wandered afar!

-- Bramwell B. Quinton,
   Charleston, B.B., Jan. 10, 1979

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Last Modified: Tuesday, 24-Aug-1999 21:16:36 NDT