Author: Epitaph Page 12

I told you so, you damned fools.

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."

Epitaphs

Here lies Robert Trollope Who made yon stones roll up. When death took his soul up His body filled this hole up.

Epitaphs

Here lies the worst king and the most miserable man in the kingdom.

Epitaphs

Many a heart by sorrow pressed, doth envy me my peaceful rest

Epitaphs

My father and mother were both insane. I inherited the terrible stain. My grandfather, grandmother, Aunts and uncles Were lunatics all And yet died of carbuncles

Epitaphs

Our Little Charlie – He dropped into our world to taste life’s bitter cup, but turned his little head aside, disgusted with the taste and died.

Epitaphs

Beneath this stone lies Lamb asleep, who died a Lamb who lived a sheep. Many a lamb and sheep he slaughtered but cruel Death the scene has altered.

Epitaphs

Here Lieth W.W. – Who never more will, trouble you, trouble you

Epitaphs

Praises on tombs are trifles vainly spent; a man's good name is his best monument.

Epitaphs

Scotty… beam me up!

Epitaphs

Owen Moore, gone away. Owin' more, than he could pay

Epitaphs

My sledge and anvil lie declined, my bellows too have lost their wind; my fire’s extinct, my forge decay’d. And in the dust my body’s laid: my coal is out, my iron’s gone, my nails are drove, my work is done.

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 Joyce, She'd rather not, But no choice.

Epitaphs

Sacred to the memory of William Skaradon who came to his death by being shot with a Colts revolver, one of the old kind brass mounted and of such is the kingdom of heaven.

Epitaphs

… Here lie the bones of Sophie Jones; for her death held no terrors. She was born a maid and died a maid. No hits, no runs, no heirs.

Epitaphs

THOMAS O. MURPHY – Sh-h-h.

Epitaphs

She lived a life of virtue and died of the cholera morbus, caused by eating green fruit in hope of a blessed immortality.

Epitaphs

Thorp’s Corpse

Epitaphs

Here lies the bones of David Jones, Laid both dead and dumb. He read a law and plead a cause But died from drinking rum.

Epitaphs