Subject: Epitaphs

Epitaphs:

Humorous, wry or ironic inscriptions from tombs or graves (or a brief statement commemorating or epitomizing) the memory of a deceased person.

Gone Underground For Good

He didn't believe in God; And when he did, they argued.

Here lies the body of our Anna, Done to death by a banana. It wasn't the fruit that laid her low, But the skin of the thing that made her go.

Beneath this silent tomb is laid, a noisy antiquated maid, who from her cradle talked till death, and ne'er before was out of breath.

Here Lies Joyce, She'd rather not, But no choice.

Here lies old Jones, who all his life collected bones, till death, that grim and bony spectre, that all-amassing bone collector, boned old Jones, so neat and tidy, that here he lies all bona fide.

Underneath this ancient pew, lie the remains of Jonathan Blue; his name was Black, but that wouldn't do.

On the 22nd of June. Jonathan Fiddle Went out of tune.

Here lies Dodge, who dodged all good, and dodged a deal of evil. But after dodging all he could, he could not dodge the devil.

Here lies Lord Coningsby – be civil, the rest God knows – so does the Devil.

This we must own in justice to her shade, `Tis the first bad exit Oldfield ever made.

Here lieth father Sparges, who died to save charges.

Here lies Fred, Who was alive and is dead: Had it been his father, I had much rather; Had it been his brother, Still better than another; Had it been his sister, No-one would have missed her; Had it been the whole generation, So much better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive and is dead, here's no more to be said.

Here lie the bones of Joseph Jones who ate while he was able. But once overfed, he dropt down dead and fell beneath the table. When from the tomb, to meet his doom, he arises amidst sinners. Since he must dwell in heaven or hell, take him – whichever gives the best dinners.

Ruth and Johnny, Side by side, Went out for an auto ride, They hit a bump. Ruth hit a tree, And John kept going – Ruthlessly.

I Made Some Good Deals and I Made Some Bad Ones. I Really Went in the Hole With This One.

In memory of Richard Fothergill, who met vierlent death near this spot 18 hundred and 40 too. He was shot by his own pistill. It was not one of the new kind; but an old fashioned brass barrell. Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Beneath this stone now dead to grief Lies Grid the famous Wokag chief. Pause here and think you learned prig, This man was once an Indian big. Consider this, ye lowly one, this man was once a big in-jun. Now he lies here, you too must rot, as sure as pig shall go to pot.

Mary Weary, Housewife. Dere friends I am going where washing ain't done or cooking or sewing: don't mourn for me now or weep for me never: for I go to do nothing, forever and ever!

A live Dog is better than a dead Lion. Come drop a tear as you pass by, as you are now so once was I, as I am now you soon must be, prepare for death and follow me.

His virtues and his pills are so well known, that envy can’t confine them under stone.