The Country Cemetery

The Country Cemetery By Elton Camp This burial yard is the oldest around Graves of the early 1800s are found And it remains in use up to this day When death’s call folks must obey Oldest markers are fieldstone rude With hard-carved writing so crude Words the survivors often misspell As names and sentiments they tell A tiny, plain square, but little gave Not even a name, only “***** slave” How it got there, none can now know But no other blacks are there, though Where the dead rich came to lie Are shown by markers so high No expense did relatives spare So all will know they are there Some must surely contain the living “There is no death,” marker is giving “In heaven,” most tombstones do tell But not a one reads that, “He’s in hell” Possibly, everyone there was a saint? But I am very sure the truth that ain’t Buried there are both the good and bad Plenty of both types they must have had The saddest marker that is found here Shows a little child laid out on her bier She has been dead for a hundred years But we can still sense her family’s tears Here some of my own ancestors lie Before I was born, most came to die It’s sad that about them little is known It is only names and dates on a stone But to come back to life they must “A resurrection of the just and unjust” But when will come that glorious day Not a person here on this earth can say Until that time, they will all rest in peace All strife and worry at their death did cease Jesus Christ is the one who paid the price So that most people may come to live twice It is true that heaven awaits only the elite Most who lived, back on the earth will meet But in conditions they will find very nice An earth that’s transformed to a paradise