Author: Epitaph Page 10

My trip is ended: send my samples home

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

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.

Epitaphs

Sacred to the memory of Anthony Drake, who died for peace and quietness sake; his wife was constantly scolding and scoffin; so he sought for repose in a twelve-dollar coffin.

Epitaphs

Here lies Kelly, we buried him today. He lived the life of Riley, when Riley was away!

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

Rest In Peace Cousin Huet – We all know you didn't do it

Epitaphs

Here into the dust, the mouldering crust, of Eleanour Bachelour's shoven; well versed in the arts of pies, custards, and tarts. And the lucrative skill of the oven. When she lived long enough, she made her last puff, a puff by her husband much praised, now here she doth lie and makes a dirt pie, in hopes that her crust shall be raised.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of John Round. Lost at sea and never found.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man who all his mortal life, spent mending clocks, but could not mend his wife. The larum of his bell was ne’er so shrill as was her tongue, aye, clacking like a mill. But now he’s gone – oh whither none can tell, but hope beyond the sound of Matty’s bell.

Epitaphs

Gone home below.

Epitaphs

Here lies, cut down like unripe fruit, The wife of Deacon Amos Shute. She died of drinking too much coffee, Anno Dominy eighteen forty

Epitaphs

Listen, Mother, Aunt and me, were killed, here we be. We should not had time to missle had they blown the engine whistle.

Epitaphs

Here lies – Johnny Yeast – Pardon me – For not rising.

Epitaphs

Scotty… beam me up!

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Hannah Thurber. Once she talked none could curb her. Three husbands had she; all are dead. They died of earache, so ‘tis said!

Epitaphs

No doctor ever physicked me, was never near my side. But when fever came I thought of the name, and that was enough – I died.

Epitaphs

On this marble drop a tear — Here lies poor Rosalind: All mankind were pleas'd with her, And she with all mankind.

Epitaphs

A thousand ways cut short our days, none are exempt from death. A honey-bee by stinging me did stop my mortal breath.

Epitaphs

Here lies Gilles. He used no net, Knew no fear. He made a misstep And wound up here

Epitaphs

Here Lies Good Old Fred – A Great Big Rock Fell On His Head – R.I.P.

Epitaphs