Jeremy Frith was a man of the soil, a farmer and conservationist whose bond with the good Bermuda earth was almost elemental in its intensity. Mr. Frith was also a man of letters and something of a latterday troubador who celebrated his love for (and occasional frustration with) Bermuda and his fellow Bermudians in verse and song.

He was a member of the extravagantly gifted Salt Kettle Frith clan. His brother Michael was Dr. Seuss’ editor at Random House in the early 1960s and later became creative director at Jim Henson Productions. During his long collaboration with the late Muppet maestro, Michael Frith co-created such now iconic characters as Miss Piggy and drew inspiration from Bermuda’s ecology, folklore and unique cultural tapestry when crafting the cult children’s TV series Fraggle Rock. One of Jeremy Frith’s nephews is reggae artist Mishka, while his niece is internationally renowned folk rocker Heather Nova.

When he died in 2009 Jeremy Frith was described by his family “as a visionary and a maverick in all aspects of life with a remarkable sense of humour … a fixer and a thinker, a dreamer and a doer, a poet, musician and storyteller.”

That was all true, as far as it went.

But Jeremy Frith was also something of a moral shark-oil barometer, a man with an unerring sense of justice, fairplay and decency. His exasperation with a whole litany of Bermuda’s avoidable mistakes and self-inflicted wounds was captured in a memorable 1996 collection entitled Oh Gawd. I Vish Dis Ig’rance Vud Stop!

In recent weeks, as shrill voices have increasingly drowned out more measured ones over the vexed question of granting Bermuda status to Permanent Residents, a poem by Mr. Frith from that book has taken on a new relevance in the contentious, multicultural present.

Send ‘Em All Back was written at a different time and in entirely different circumstances. But its message of tolerance and inclusivity is an enduring one — and so is its gentle reminder that Bermuda is a community of immigrant communities, one that has created a common identity from many disparate parts.

For as Jeremy Frith was fond of saying, it really doesn’t matter what ship your family came over on, we are all in the same tiny boat today. And it’s always worth bearing in mind that the boat in question is stranded seven hundred miles out in the Atlantic and is utterly dependent on the good sense, good faith and cooperation of all of its residents for its ongoing survival.

Send ‘Em Back

If we sent back all the Portagees

From six generations;

If we sent back all descendants

Of the Caribbean nations;

If we sent back all the Limeys

That have come here since the wars,

And Canadians, and Americans

Who’ve made homes upon our shores

Then we wouldn’t have a Quinton

Harry Viera or Sir John

We wouldn’t have a Dr. Saul

To rest our future on;

We wouldn’t have a Freddie Wade

Or even Lois Browne

We wouldn’t have a lot of folks

In front or back of town.

‘Cause either we’re all immigrants

Or else we send ‘em back.

We cannot make distinctions of

White or brown or black.

Either we’re together

Or we’ve got to weed ‘em out!

We’ve got to make decisions

And then act without a doubt.

For the Islands have been peopled

For about four hundred years;

They’ve seen a lot of happiness,

Soaked in a lot of tears.

They’ve watched their forests crumble

And their farmland turned to homes,

But they’ve always held a welcome

For those who crossed the foam.

There was no one here before us

‘Cept the pigs that swam ashore,

And I think the pigs were Spanish

But I’m really not too sure.

So if we got really ruthless,

Stuck to true Bermudian vows,

We’d give these lovely islands back

To the cedars and cahows.