Subject: Epitaphs (Page 2)

Here lies one John Witherbee, – A Boston gallant chap was he. – God had no use for such as he, – The devil rejected Witherbee.

Dear God: enclosed, please find Rube Goldberg. Now that you’ve got him, what are you going to do with him?

Here lies an honest lawyer – and that is Strange.

Alass Frend Joseph, His End was Almost Sudden, as thou the mandate came express from heaven his foot it slip and he did fall help, help he cries & that was all.

Shot in the back by a dirty rat

This Empty Urn is Sacred to the Memory of John Revere Who Died Abroad in Finistere: If He Had Lived He Would Have Been Buried Here.

Ashes to ashes dust to dust, here lies George Emery I trust. And when the trump blows louder and louder, he’ll rise a box of Emery powder.

He was a simple man who died of complications.

Here he lies, James T. Carson. He blew up his wife and was hung for arson.

Here lies George Johnson, He was right, We was wrong, But we strung him up, And now he's gone

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.

Here lies my wife in earthy mould, who when she lived did naught but scold. Peace! wake her not, for now she’s still; she had, but now I have my will.

Here richly, with ridiculous display, The Politician's corpse was laid away. While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged, I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.

Here lies two brothers by misfortune surrounded; one died of wounds, but the other was drownded.

Here lies one that once was born and cried, Lived several years — and then he died

Beneath this stone lies Lamb asleep, who died a Lamb who lived a sheep. Many a lamb and sheep he slaughtered but cruel Death the scene has altered.

Struck by thunder.

Tom Smith is dead, and here he lies, nobody laughs and nobody cries; where his soul's gone, or how it fares, nobody knows, and nobody cares.

Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake. Stepped on the gas instead of the brake.

… Here lies, returned to clay Miss Arabella Young, who on the eleventh day of May began to hold her tongue.

My wife lies here. All my tears cannot bring her back, Therefore, I weep.