Author: Epitaph Page 23

Elizabeth McFadden, wife of David P. Read. Died Feb. 28, 1859, in her 47th year. She never done a thing to displeas her husband.

Epitaphs

This debt I owe is justly due, and I am come to sleep with you.

Epitaphs

Go away – I’m asleep.

Epitaphs

Shall all we die? We shall die all. All die shall we? Die all we shall.

Epitaphs

Factory Reject

Epitaphs

Here lies old Aunt Hannah Proctor who purged but didn't call the doctor: she couldn't stay, she had to go praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Epitaphs

Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down – it was.

Epitaphs

I am anxiously expecting you. A.D. 1827 — Here I am! – A.D. 1867

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

18 years a maiden, 1 year a wife, 1 day a mother, then I lost my life.

Epitaphs

Where did everybody go?

Epitaphs

He was a man of invention great – Above all who he lived nigh; – But he could not invent to live – When God called him to die.

Epitaphs

He got a fish bone in his throat – And then he sang an angel's note.

Epitaphs

Dear God, Thanks

Epitaphs

Here lies my wife a sad slatterned shrew. If I said I regretted her, I should lie too.

Epitaphs

Stephen and Time are now both even. Stephen beat Time and now Time's beat Stephen.

Epitaphs

Here lies Donnie Cornwell, good and dead. In an extra large coffin to fit his extra large head.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Richard Thomas, an Englishman by birth, a Whig of '76 – a Cooper by trade, now food for worms. Like an old rum puncheon whose staves are all marked and numbered he will be raised and put together again by his Maker.

Epitaphs

Moses White. His grand excellence was that he was genuine.

Epitaphs

Here lies Johnny Cole. Who died upon my soul after eating a plentiful dinner. While chewing his crust he was turned into dust with his crimes undigested – poor sinner.

Epitaphs