Author: Epitaph Page 26

DOUBT – Martha Mae “Take the back roads!” • Bill – “It’s five o’clock somewhere!”

I would – rather be here – than in Texas.

John and Lydia, that blooming pair, a whale killed him and her body lies here.

Poorly lived and poorly died. Poorly buried and no one cried.

Jeffrey Bottom – His wife was constantly scolding and scoffing , so he sought for repose in a 12 coin coffin

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

Here lies the body of Jonathan Tilton, whose friends reduced him to a skeleton. They robbed him out of all he had And now rejoice that he is dead.

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

Rab McBeth – who died for the want of another breath.

Here lieth Richard Dent in his last tenement.

Here lie Walker's particles.

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

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

I’m A Writer But Then Nobody’s Perfect

Beneath the stone, a lump of clay, lies the man called Peter Hannels, who early in the month of May, took off his winter flannels.

This stone was raised to Sarah Ford, not Sarah's virtues to record, for they're well known to all the town. No Lord; it was raised to keep her down.

Charlie was a chemist, but Charlie is no more. What Charlie thought was H20 was H2SO4.

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

Here lies one Wood enclosed in wood. One Wood within another. The outer wood Is very good: we cannot praise the other.

… He's done a-catching cod, and gone to meet his God.

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