Author: Epitaph Page 20

Here lies Thomas Smith and what is somewhat rareish, he was born bred and hanged in this e’er parish.

Epitaphs

Shall all we die? We shall die all. All die shall we? Die all we shall.

Epitaphs

Sacred to the memory of Anthony Drake, who died for peace and quietness sake; his wife was constantly scolding and scoffin; so he sought for repose in a twelve-dollar coffin.

Epitaphs

Here lies a lewd Fellow, who, while he drew Breath, In the Midst of his Life was in Quest of his Death; Which he quickly obtain'd for it cost him his Life, For being in Bed with another Man's Wife.

Epitaphs

Curly – Joe DeRita, “The Last Stooge” July 12, 1909 – July 3, 1993

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

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A rum cough carried him off.

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Hooray my brave boys let's rejoice at his fall. For if he had lived he would have buried us all.

Epitaphs

Listen, Mother, Aunt and me, were killed, here we be. We should not had time to missle had they blown the engine whistle.

Epitaphs

I was not, I am not, I grieve not

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Here lies Elizabeth, my wife for 47 years, and this is the first damn thing she ever done to oblige me.

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He who dies with the most toys wins

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ASSMAN

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

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The manner of her death was thus; She was druv over by a Bus.

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Here lies John Higley whose father and mother were drowned in their passage from America. Had they both lived they would have been buried here.

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Here lies – Johnny Yeast – Pardon me – For not rising.

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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.

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

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

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Cast a cold eye on life, on death. Horseman, pass by!

Epitaphs