Subject: Epitaphs (Page 20)

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.

Farewell my young companions all. From death's arrest no age is free. Remember this, a warning call. Prepare to follow after me.

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

Here lies Charles. Had six guns Needed seven. Now he is in heaven

She lived with her husband for 50 years, and died in the confident hope of a better life.

Here lies the body of Jonathan Ground, who was lost at sea and never found.

A rum cough carried him off.

I plant these shrubs upon your grave dear wife. That something on this spot may boast of life. Shrubs must wither and all earth must rot. Shrubs may revive, but you thank heaven will not.

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

To the Green Memory of William Hawkings, Gardener: Planted Here With Love and Care By His Grieving Colleagues

This is what I expected, but not so soon.

He died in bed.

Here lies John Ross, kick'd by a boss.

Here lies the body of Martha Dias, Who was always uneasy and not over pious, She liv'd to the age of threescore and ten, And gave that to the worms she refus'd to the men.

They abounded in riches but she wore the britches

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.

Pray, reader, stop, and read my fate, – What caused my life to terminate; – For thieves one night, when in my bed, – Broke in my house and shot me dead.

Here lies a man never beat by a plan, straight was his aim and sure of his game, never was a lover but invented a revolver.

Richard Kell Munson (1924-2004) Lovingly Known As Doctor Dick

"Lord, thy grace is free, — why not for me?"

And the Lord answered and said, — "Because thy debts aint paid I”

I bowl'd, I struck, I caught, I stopp'd. Sure life's a game of cricket; I block'd with care, with caution popp'd, yet Death has hit my wicket.