Subject: Epitaphs (Page 25)

As you are now, I once was. As I am now, you shall be. So prepare for death and follow me.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Jonathan Near Whose mouth it stretched from ear to ear. Tread softly, stranger, o'er this wonder, For if he yawns, you're gone, by thunder.

Epitaphs

Ingenious youth, thou art laid in dust. Thy friends, for thee, in tears did burst.

Epitaphs

He looked for gold and died of lead poison

Epitaphs

Here lies John Auricular, Who in the ways of the Lord walked perpendicular.

Epitaphs

Office upstairs.

Epitaphs

Here Betsy Brown her body lies. Her soul is flying in the skies. While here on earth she oftimes spun six hundred skeins from sun to sun, and wove one day, her daughter brags, two hundred pounds of carpet rags.

Epitaphs

Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear. To dig the dust enclosed here; blessed be the man that spares these stones, and curst be he that moves my bones.

Epitaphs

This corpse is Phebe Thorps.

Epitaphs

Here lie Walker's particles.

Epitaphs

I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.

Epitaphs

Here lies a lewd Fellow, who, while he drew Breath, In the Midst of his Life was in Quest of his Death; Which he quickly obtain'd for it cost him his Life, For being in Bed with another Man's Wife.

Epitaphs

She lived a life of virtue and died of the cholera morbus, caused by eating green fruit in hope of a blessed immortality.

Epitaphs

A victim of fast women and slow horses.

Epitaphs

Some have children, others none, Here lies the mother of twenty one.

Epitaphs

I was not, I am not, I grieve not

Epitaphs

He found a rope and picked it up, and with it walked away. It happened that to tother end, a horse was hitched, they say. They took the rope and tied it up, unto a hickory limb. It happened that the tother end, was somehow hitched to him.

Epitaphs

Here lies John Taggart, of honest fame, of stature low, and a leg lame; content he was with portion small, kept a shop in Wigtown, and that's all.

Epitaphs

His faults are buried with him beneath this stone. His virtues (if he had any) are remembered by his friends.

Epitaphs

Weep not for me mother & brothers dear, It is God's wish that I am here. At my sweet age I swallowed a bone That sent me to a happy home.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs