Memorial and Celebration Of the lives of
Samantha and Ruby Rose Fayet
Samantha and Ruby Rose Fayet
2.30pm, 2 April 2005
St Cyprians Church
Glentworth Street, London NW16AX
St Cyprians Church
Glentworth Street, London NW16AX
Mackenzie Quartet
Adagio, Albinoni
Sean Cathie, Vicar of St Cyprian’s
Welcome
Music: Darlings, Kid Loco
Mireille Archer
Demain, dès l’aube Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
Demail, dès l’aube, a l’heure où blanchait la campagne
Je partirais. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irais par la forêt, j’irais par la montagne.
Je ne puis démeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherais les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j’arriverais, je mettrai sur la tombe
Un boquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Je partirais. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irais par la forêt, j’irais par la montagne.
Je ne puis démeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
Je marcherais les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.
Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j’arriverais, je mettrai sur la tombe
Un boquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.
Tomorrow morn, at the time the fields grow white
I shall set off, I know you look for me,
Across the forest’s gloom, the mountain height
I can no longer dwell away from thee.
I walk with eyes upon my thought intent
Hearing no outer noise, seeing no sight,
Alone, unknown, hands clasped and earthward bent,
Sad, and the day for me shall be as the night.
On evening’s golden hues I shall not gaze,
Nor on the vessles that to Harfleur come
And when I arrive, I shall put on thy grave
A wreath of holly green and heather bloom.
Music: Elvis Presley, Daddy Don’t Cry Amy Howarth and Anna TilbrookI shall set off, I know you look for me,
Across the forest’s gloom, the mountain height
I can no longer dwell away from thee.
I walk with eyes upon my thought intent
Hearing no outer noise, seeing no sight,
Alone, unknown, hands clasped and earthward bent,
Sad, and the day for me shall be as the night.
On evening’s golden hues I shall not gaze,
Nor on the vessles that to Harfleur come
And when I arrive, I shall put on thy grave
A wreath of holly green and heather bloom.
Meine Rose, Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
Dem Holden Lenzgesscheide,
Der Rose, meiner Freude,
Die schon gebeugt und blasser
Vom heissen Strahl der Sonnen
Reich’ich den Becher Wasser
Aus dunklem, tiefen Bronnen. Du Rose mein Herzenz!
Vom stillen Strahl des Schmezens
Bist du gebeugt und blasser;
Ich möchte dir zu Fussen,
Wie dieser Blume Wasser,
Still meine Seel giessen!
Konnt’ich dann auch night sehen
Dich freudig auferstehen.
Der Rose, meiner Freude,
Die schon gebeugt und blasser
Vom heissen Strahl der Sonnen
Reich’ich den Becher Wasser
Aus dunklem, tiefen Bronnen. Du Rose mein Herzenz!
Vom stillen Strahl des Schmezens
Bist du gebeugt und blasser;
Ich möchte dir zu Fussen,
Wie dieser Blume Wasser,
Still meine Seel giessen!
Konnt’ich dann auch night sehen
Dich freudig auferstehen.
To the lovely jewellery of the Spring,
To the Rose, my delight,
that is already bowing and turning pale
from the hot beams of the sun,
I reach out a cup of water
From a dark, deep well. You, Rose of my heart!
From the silent beam of pain,
You bow and turn pale;
I would like to pour my soul
Silently, like water for this flower
At your feet
Even if then I might not see
You rising with joy.
To the Rose, my delight,
that is already bowing and turning pale
from the hot beams of the sun,
I reach out a cup of water
From a dark, deep well. You, Rose of my heart!
From the silent beam of pain,
You bow and turn pale;
I would like to pour my soul
Silently, like water for this flower
At your feet
Even if then I might not see
You rising with joy.
Sarah Murray
Do not weep for me Mary Frye, 1932
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in cirlcing flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room,
I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not here. I do not die.
Everyone
Ev’rybody’s Talkin’ (Midnight Cowdoy)
Ev’rybody’s talkin’ at me
I don’t hear a word that they’re sayin’
Only the echoes of my mind
People stop and star
I can’t see their faces,
Only the shadows of their eyes
I’m goin’ where the sun keeps shinin’
Through the pourin’ rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes
Bankin’ off the north east wind
Sailin’on summer breeze
And skippin’ over the ocean like a storm.
Ev’rybody’s talkin’ at me,
Ah………….
Alex NightingaleI am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in cirlcing flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room,
I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not here. I do not die.
Everyone
Ev’rybody’s Talkin’ (Midnight Cowdoy)
Ev’rybody’s talkin’ at me
I don’t hear a word that they’re sayin’
Only the echoes of my mind
People stop and star
I can’t see their faces,
Only the shadows of their eyes
I’m goin’ where the sun keeps shinin’
Through the pourin’ rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes
Bankin’ off the north east wind
Sailin’on summer breeze
And skippin’ over the ocean like a storm.
Ev’rybody’s talkin’ at me,
Ah………….
Eulogy composed by Patrice and Alex
Music and Photos: Blood Red River, Beth Orton
Dennis Rolfe
Eulogy
Music: Electralane, Eight Steps
Nathalie Archer
Eulogy and Farewell
Victoria Demollard
A letter from Sam’s maternal grandmother
Sean Cathie
Closing words
Mackenzie Quartet
La vie en Rose
