Subject: Epitaphs (Page 23)

How did it get so dark ?!?

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

Behold! I come as a thief. – Death loves a shining mark. – In this case he had it.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

ASSMAN

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of our Anna, Done to death by a banana. It wasn't the fruit that laid her low, But the skin of the thing that made her go.

Epitaphs

He took his beer from year to year – And then the bier took him.

Epitaphs

As a stranger she did die, in strange lands she doth lie. Here by strangers she was laid, and her funeral charges paid.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Hannah Thurber. Once she talked none could curb her. Three husbands had she; all are dead. They died of earache, so ‘tis said!

Epitaphs

He held the pall at the funeral of Shakspeare.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson – And Bulb, his wife. – Their warfare is accomplished.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Richard Thomas, an Englishman by birth, a Whig of '76 – a Cooper by trade, now food for worms. Like an old rum puncheon whose staves are all marked and numbered he will be raised and put together again by his Maker.

Epitaphs

Two great physicians first, my Loving husband tried, to cure my pain, in vain. At last he got a third, and then I died.

Epitaphs

Here lies an honest lawyer – and that is Strange.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

The Lord was good I was lopping off wood – And down fell from a tree. – I met with a check that broke my neck – And so God lopped off me.

Epitaphs

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.

Epitaphs

Here lie the remains of Thomas Woodhen. The most amiable of husbands And excellent of men. His real name was Woodcock, But it wouldn't come in rhyme.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of John Round. Lost at sea and never found.

Epitaphs

Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast, physic their cobblers, and Death their last.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Robert Lowe. Whither he’s gone I do not know. If to the realms of peace and love, farewell to happiness above. If to a place of lower level, I don’t congratulate the d…l.

Epitaphs