I’d never met Mr. Campbell Or heard of Mr. Stone, But now I’ve ceased to ramble, They’ve provided me a home. A place for old and older, Not poor or broke nor rich. For meek and mild and bolder, It runs without a hitch.
A bus to take us shopping Or cruising to the mall, And even island hopping There’s something for us all. Pat Pepper keeps us busy, Not anchored to a chair Al Widener’s in a tizzy If we’re not happy there.
The staff is neat and clever At Bradshaw’s restaurant I plan to stay forever, ‘Cause it’s my favorite haunt. No need to roam or gamble For we are not alone, God bless you Mr. Campbell God keep you Mr. Stone
This is in honor of my father, Clifford Joseph Fitzpatrick, who would've been 97 today. His poem was published in the newsletter of his residence in Atlanta, GA