Subject: Epitaphs (Page 10)

Here lies Groucho Marx and Lies and Lies and Lies

Here lies Bernard Lightfoot who was accidentally killed in his forty fifth year.

I put my wife beneath this stone, for her repose and for my own.

Buried here beneath this clay lies gardener John Arbothnaut Jay. Now in his simpeternal home, a constant source of high-grade loam.

Here lies poor but honest Bryan Tunstall. He was a most expert angler until Death envious of his art, threw out his line hooked him, and landed him here the 21st day of April, 1790

Charity, wife of Gideon Bligh, underneath this stone doth lie. Nought was she e'er known to do, that her husband told her to.

Here lies John Ross, kick'd by a boss.

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

He looked for gold and died of lead poison

We all have a debt – To nature due – I've paid mine – And so must you.

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.

… Here lie the bones of Sophie Jones; for her death held no terrors. She was born a maid and died a maid. No hits, no runs, no heirs.

The children of Israel wanted bread and the Lord sent them manna. Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife, and the Devil sent him Anna.

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

Here lies Frank a shining light, whose name, life, actions all were white.

Blown upward out of sight: he sought the leak by candlelight

OK . . . I gotta go now.

When I was in the military, they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one.

Here lies my twins as dead as nits, One died of fever the other of fits.

They were two living sisters, who in this dust do lie. The very day Annie was buried Elizabeth did die.

 Here lies the body of Dr Hayward, a man who never voted. Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.