Author: Epitaph Page 6

Here lies Fred, Who was alive and is dead: Had it been his father, I had much rather; Had it been his brother, Still better than another; Had it been his sister, No-one would have missed her; Had it been the whole generation, So much better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive and is dead, here's no more to be said.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Reader, I've left this world, in which I had a world to do; sweating and fretting to get rich: just such a fool as you.

Epitaphs

Here lies one who for medicine would not give, a little gold, and so his life he lost: I fancy now he'd wish again to live, could he but guess how much his funeral cost.

Epitaphs

Here lies Donald and his wife Janett McPhee, aged 40 he and 30 she.

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Struck by thunder.

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Soon ripe, Soon rotten, Soon gone, Not forgotten

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Here lies Tommy Day, removed from over the way.

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Tom Smith is dead, and here he lies, nobody laughs and nobody cries; where his soul's gone, or how it fares, nobody knows, and nobody cares.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Miriam Wood, formerly wife to John Smith. A woman well beloved of all her neighbors for her care of small folks' education, their number being great, that when she died she scarcely left her mate: so wise discreet was her behaviours that she was well esteemed by neighbors. She lived in love with all to die so let her rest to eternitye.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man that was Knott born, His father was Knott before him, He lived Knott, and did Knott die, Yet underneath this stone doth lie.

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Here lies Granny Beth Sue Choked to death On Redman Chew

Epitaphs

Here lies the darling of his time – Mitchel expired in his prime. – Who four years short of forty seven – Was found full ripe and plucked for Heaven.

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

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Those who cared for him while living, will know whose body is buried here, to others it does not matter.

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

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Poor John Scott is buried here, tho' once he was both hale and stout. Death stretched him on his bitter bier, in another world he hops about.

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Here lies the father of 29; he would have had more but he didn't have time.

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

Epitaphs

This spot is the sweetest I've seen in my life, For it raises many flowers and covers my wife.

Epitaphs

Sacred to the remains of Jonathan Thompson. A pious Christian and affectionate husband. His disconsolate widow continues to carry on his grocery business At the old stand on Main Street: Cheapest and best prices in town.

Epitaphs