Subject: Epitaphs
Here rests an old woman who always was tired, for she lived in a house where no help was hired; Her very last words were, “My friends I am goin*, to a land where there's nothin' of washin' or sewin', and everything there shall be just to ray wishes, for where they don't eat there's no washin' of dishes; the land with sweet anthems is constantly ringin', but having no voice I'll get clear of the singin'." She folded her hands, her latest endeavor, and whispered, "Oh nothin', sweet nothin forever."