Subject: Epitaphs (Page 28)

“Deeply regretted by all who never knew him.”

Epitaphs

Stephen and Time are now both even. Stephen beat Time and now Time's beat Stephen.

Epitaphs

Near by these grey rocks, enclosed in a box, lies hatter Cox who died of small pox.

Epitaphs

Here lies one John Witherbee, – A Boston gallant chap was he. – God had no use for such as he, – The devil rejected Witherbee.

Epitaphs

Fhebe Sprague. – In the sixteenth year of her age, – Natively quick and spry – As all young people be, – When God commands them down to dust, – How quick they drop you see.

Epitaphs

Here lies George Johnson, He was right, We was wrong, But we strung him up, And now he's gone

Epitaphs

Here lies Frank a shining light, whose name, life, actions all were white.

Epitaphs

Here lies entombed one Roger Morton, whose sudden death was early brought on; trying one day his corn to mow off, the razor slipped and cut his toe off. The toe, or rather what it grew to, an inflammation quickly flew to; the parts they took to mortifying, And poor dear Roger took to dying.

Epitaphs

He was literally a father to all the children of the parish.

Epitaphs

Here lies John Higley whose father and mother were drowned in their passage from America. Had they both lived they would have been buried here.

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

G. Winch, the brewer, lies buried here. In life he was both hale and stout. Death brought him to his bitter bier. Now in heaven he hops about.

Epitaphs

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

(1784 – 1865) English statesman
Death Epitaphs

The manner of her death was thus; She was druv over by a Bus.

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

He never won immortal fame, nor conquered earthly ills, but men weep for him all the same, he always paid his bills.

Epitaphs

Here lies John Hill, a man of skill. His age was five times ten, he ne'er did good, nor ever would, had he lived as long again.

Epitaphs

Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear. To dig the dust enclosed here; blessed be the man that spares these stones, and curst be he that moves my bones.

Epitaphs

Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down – it was.

Epitaphs

Here lies Dr Keene, the good Bishop of Chester, who eat up a fat goose, but could not digest her.

Epitaphs

She lived genteely on a small income.

Epitaphs