Subject: Epitaphs (Page 10)

Here lies Arnel. ‘You should see the other guy.’

Epitaphs

I came I know not whence, I go I know not whither.

Epitaphs

The wedding-day appointed was, and wedding clothes provided, before the nuptial day, alas! He sickened and he die did.

Epitaphs

These hillocks green and mouldering bones, these gloomy tombs and lettered stones. One admonition here supply: Reader! art thou prepared to die?

Epitaphs

Wherever you be, let your wind go free. For holding it in, was the killing of me.

Epitaphs

Here lies Lotta Dust.

Epitaphs

There once was a man named Don, who fell asleep out on his lawn. They thought he was pretending to be dead, then a tombstone fell on his head. And now Don is long gone.

Epitaphs

Here lies Andrew – The quality of his armor was not assured

Epitaphs

Here I at length repose, My spirit now at aise is; With the tips of my toes And the point of my nose Turned up to the roots of the daisies.

Epitaphs

Here lies poor but honest Bryan Tunstall. He was a most expert angler until Death envious of his art, threw out his line hooked him, and landed him here the 21st day of April, 1790

Epitaphs

They abounded in riches but she wore the britches

Epitaphs

Posterity will ne'er survey – A nobler grave than this: – Here lies the bones of Castlereagh: – Stop, traveller, and piss.

Epitaphs

Murdered by a traitor and coward whose name is not worthy to appear here

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Sacred To the Memory of LEWIS WICKS, who was killed on Thursday the 4, Oct. at 2 O'ck. P.M. by a waggon loaded with hay running over his brest. AD.1821 AE 56 years 3 mo. & 4 d's. who has left an affectionate Consort, and numerous friends to lament his loss.

Epitaphs

Here lies old Jones, who all his life collected bones, till death, that grim and bony spectre, that all-amassing bone collector, boned old Jones, so neat and tidy, that here he lies all bona fide.

Epitaphs

Born of woman, killed by lead. I most likely had your wife in bed.

Epitaphs

Here lies my wife, poor Molly, let her lie, she finds repose at last, and so do I.

Epitaphs

Bill Blake – was hanged by mistake.

Epitaphs

She did what she could. Not Goodbye, but au revoir. In loving memory of My Dear Wife Annie Edith Faithfull (1877–1954)

Epitaphs

Here lie I, Martin Elginbrodde: Hae mercy o' my soul, Lord God; As I wad do, were I Lord God, And ye were Martin Elginbrodde.

Epitaphs