Author: Epitaph Page 11

Don't worry, I'm merely catching up with sleep.

Here lies one Wood enclosed in wood. One Wood within another. The outer wood Is very good: we cannot praise the other.

She always said her feet were killing her – but nobody believed her.

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.

Death is a debt that’s justly due, that I have paid and so must you.

Here lies the landlord Tommy Dent In his last cosy tenement.

Reader if cash thou are – In want of any – dig 4 feet deep – And thou wilt find a Penny.

My trip is ended: send my samples home

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

Here lie the remains of John Hall, grocer. The world is not worth a fig, and I have good raisins for saying so.

Here lies interred Priscilla Bird, who sang on earth till sixty two. Now up on high above the sky, no doubt she sings like sixty too.

He got a fish bone in his throat – And then he sang an angel's note.

ASSMAN

Factory Reject

Here lies a man never beat by a plan, straight was his aim and sure of his game, never was a lover but invented a revolver.

Reader, I've left this world, in which I had a world to do; sweating and fretting to get rich: just such a fool as you.

This we must own in justice to her shade, `Tis the first bad exit Oldfield ever made.

The winter snow congealed his form, but now we know our Uncle’s warm.

Here lies the body of Richard Hind, – Who was neither ingenious, sober, nor kind.

“I’m just resting my eyes”

The milk of human kindness was Vny own dear cherub wife – I'll never find another one as good in all my life. – She bloomed, she blossomed, she decayed. – And under this tree her body we laid.