Subject: Epitaphs (Page 28)

Getting there is half the fun!

Epitaphs

When I was in the military, they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Ope'd my eyes took a peep. Didn't like it went back to sleep.

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Molly Dickie, the Wife of Hall Dickie, tailor

Epitaphs

Of him within, nought e'er gratis was had, that you read this so cheap now makes him sad.

Epitaphs

Here I lie, taken from life.

Epitaphs

I thought my doctor said I was heading for a rave.

Doctors Epitaphs

Here beneath this pile of stones – Lies all thats left of Sally Jones. – Her name was Lord, it was not Jones, – But Jones was used to rhyme with stones.

Epitaphs

Approach and read, now with your hats on, for here lies Bailie William Watson; who was famous for his thinking, and moderation in his drinking.

Epitaphs

Faults I May Have – Being Wrong is Not One of Them

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

… Dentist Brown – Is filling his last cavity.

Epitaphs

My candle burns at both ends, – It will not last the night, – But Oh, my foes, – And Ah, my friends, – It gives a lovely light

Epitaphs

Here lies poor Ned Pardon, from misery freed, 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

This stone was raised by Frieda's Lord, not Frieda's virtues to record, for they are known to all the town. This stone was raised to keep her down.

Epitaphs

Here lies old Aunt Hannah Proctor who purged but didn't call the doctor: she couldn't stay, she had to go praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Epitaphs

Here lies Salvino Armalo D'Armati of Florence, the inventor of spectacles. May God pardon his sins!

Epitaphs

The man buried here literally, went to the four winds

Epitaphs

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

Epitaphs

Here lies Sir John Guise: No one laughs, no one cries: Where he's gone, and how he fares, No one knows, and no one cares.

Epitaphs