Author: Epitaph Page 2

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.

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.

ASSMAN

Gone Underground For Good

Here lies the body of John Round. Lost at sea and never found.

Pray for me, old Thomas Dunn, but if you don't, tis all one.

At last, a year-round resident

I Made Some Good Deals and I Made Some Bad Ones. I Really Went in the Hole With This One.

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

Here lies Ann Mann, who lived an old maid, but died an old Mann…

I thought my doctor said I was heading for a rave.

Here lies the body of Elred. At least he will be when he is dead. But now at this time he's still alive, 14th August '65.

The dust of Melantha Gribbling, swept up at last by the Great Housekeeper

They abounded in riches but she wore the britches

Here lies the body of Johnny Haskell, A lying, thieving, cheating rascal; He always lied, and now he lies, He has no soul and cannot rise.

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.

Erected to the memory of John Macfarlane. Drowned in the waters of Leith – by a few affectionate friends.

Here lies Donnie Cornwell, good and dead. In an extra large coffin to fit his extra large head.

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

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 Gilles – Used no net, knew no fear, made mis-step, wound up here