Author: Epitaph Page 14

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

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

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

Epitaphs

Samuel Gardner was blind in one eye and in a moment of confusion he stepped out of a receiving and discharging door in one of the warehouses into the ineffable glories of the celestial sphere.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Fear God, keep His Commandments, Don't attempt to climb up in a tree That's what caused the death of me!

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Obadiah Wilkinson – And Bulb, his wife. – Their warfare is accomplished.

Epitaphs

To the memory of David Wall – Whose superior performance on the bassoon endeared him to an extensive musical acquaintance. His social life closed on the 4th Dec. 1796. in his 57th year.

Epitaphs

I made an ash of myself

Epitaphs

Here lies one John Witherbee, – A Boston gallant chap was he. – God had no use for such as he, – The devil rejected Witherbee.

Epitaphs

This corpse is Phebe Thorps.

Epitaphs

Here lies John Taggart, of honest fame, of stature low, and a leg lame; content he was with portion small, kept a shop in Wigtown, and that's all.

Epitaphs

Here beneath this stone we lie, back to back my wife and I, And when the angels trump shall trill, If she gets up then I'll lie still!

Epitaphs

See, I told you I was SICK!

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Returned – Unopened

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Weep not for me mother & brothers dear, It is God's wish that I am here. At my sweet age I swallowed a bone That sent me to a happy home.

Epitaphs

Sweet Leota Beloved by All In Regions Beyond Now But Having a Ball

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This man when alive was a slave, but behold such is fate, having died he is equal in power, to Darius the Great.

Epitaphs

Robert Phillip, gravedigger: Here I lie at the Chancel door; Here lie I because I am poor; The farther in the more you pay; Here I lie as warm as they.

Epitaphs

Within this grave do lie. Back to back my wife and I. When the last trump the air shall fill, if she gets up I’ll just lie still.

Epitaphs

#$%& @!&% #?!$% @?*&!@^#!* @*$! &!%?

Epitaphs