Subject: Epitaphs (Page 2)

Once I wasn't – then I was. Now I ain't again.

Epitaphs

Here lies old Caleb Ham, by trade a bum. When de died the devil cried, Come, Caleb, come.

Epitaphs

In Memory of Jacob, third son of Capt. Jacob Rice, died May 7, 1818 Et. 9 yrs. – His death was occasioned by the fall of a dung fork, one tine penetrating his brain.

Epitaphs

Here lies my poor wife, much lamented, She is happy and I am contented.

Epitaphs

Here lies John Taggart, of honest fame, of stature low, and a leg lame; content he was with portion small, kept a shop in Wigtown, and that's all.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Reader pass on and ne'er waste your time, On bad biography and bitter rhyme. For what I am this cumb'rous clay insures, And what I was, is no affair of yours.

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

Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery free, Who long was a bookseller's hack. He led such a damnable life in this world I don't think he'll ever come back.

Epitaphs

Tears cannot restore her –– therefore I weep.

Epitaphs

Die? … My dear Doctor, that's the last thing I shall do!

(1784 – 1865) English statesman
Death Epitaphs

Father and Mother and I choose to be buried asunder. Father and Mother here, and I buried yonder.

Epitaphs

Leslie Nielsen (1926 – 2010) “Let ‘er rip”

Epitaphs

Was suddenly killed at early dawn, July 4th, 1842, by the explosion of a small canon, aged 15 years

Epitaphs

This tombstone is a milestone – Hah! how so? – Because beneath lies Miles – Who's Miles below; – A little man he was, a dwarf in size, – But now stretch’d out, at least Miles long he lies. – His grave though small, contains a space so wide, – It has Miles in breadth, and Miles in length beside.

Epitaphs

I Dionysius underneath this tomb – Some sixty years of age have reached my doom. – Ne'er having married, think it sad, – And I wish my father never had.

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

John Edwards who perished in a fire. None could hold a candle to him.

Epitaphs

Here lies one who never sacrificed his reason to superstitious God, nor ever believed that Jonah swallowed the whale.

Epitaphs

Many a heart by sorrow pressed, doth envy me my peaceful rest

Epitaphs

Factory Reject

Epitaphs