Subject: Epitaphs (Page 3)

Poor John Scott is buried here, tho' once he was both hale and stout. Death stretched him on his bitter bier, in another world he hops about.

Epitaphs

I am anxiously expecting you. A.D. 1827 — Here I am! – A.D. 1867

Epitaphs

Here lies Johnny Cole. Who died upon my soul after eating a plentiful dinner. While chewing his crust he was turned into dust with his crimes undigested – poor sinner.

Epitaphs

At last, a year-round resident

Epitaphs

Sacred To the Memory of LEWIS WICKS, who was killed on Thursday the 4, Oct. at 2 O'ck. P.M. by a waggon loaded with hay running over his brest. AD.1821 AE 56 years 3 mo. & 4 d's. who has left an affectionate Consort, and numerous friends to lament his loss.

Epitaphs

Whether sailor or not, for a moment avast, poor Tom's mizzen topsail is laid to the mast; he'll never turn out, or more heave the lead; he's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead. He ever was brisk, and tho' now gone to wreck. When he hears the last whistle, he'll jump upon deck.

Epitaphs

Gone, but not forgiven

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

An epitaph is a belated advertisement for a line of goods that has been discontinued.

(1876 – 1944) American author, humorist & columnist
Death Epitaphs

She tormented him until he dried up like a bundle of Straw.

Epitaphs

I told you so. You damned fools.

(1866 – 1946) English author
Epitaphs

This world is a prison in every respect, whose walls are the heavens in common; the jailor is sin, and the prisoners men; and the fetters are nothing but women.

Epitaphs

This is all that remains of poor Ben Hough. He had forty-nine years and that was enough. Of worldly goods he had his share, And now he's gone to the Devil's snare.

Epitaphs

Here lies old twenty five per cent. The more he had the more he lent. The more he had the more he craved, great God, can his poor soul be saved?

Epitaphs

Here I lie, my name is Ball, I lived, I died, despised by all; and now I cannot chew my crust, I'm gone back to my ancient dust.

Epitaphs

They abounded in riches but she wore the britches

Epitaphs

Some have children, others none, Here lies the mother of twenty one.

Epitaphs

The Yankees came South in droves and bands, To conquer our fair Southern lands. But this little plot, In this quiet spot, was all the land this damn Yankee got.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Grim death took me without any warning, I was well at night, and died in the morning.

Epitaphs

Dear God: enclosed, please find Rube Goldberg. Now that you’ve got him, what are you going to do with him?

Epitaphs