Author: Epitaph Page 5

Behold! I come as a thief. – Death loves a shining mark. – In this case he had it.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

At last, a year-round resident

Epitaphs

Beneath these green trees rising to the skies, the planter of them, Isaac Greentree lies! A time shall come when these green trees shall fall, and Isaac Greentree rise above them all.

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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

Paul Lennis Swank – Here under the dung of cows and sheep, lies an old highclimber fast asleep. His trees all topped and his lines all hung. They say the old rascal died full of rum.

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Here lies Charles. Had six guns Needed seven. Now he is in heaven

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Rebecca Freeland, 1741 – She drank good ale, good punch and wine, and lived to the age of 99.

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

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Here lies Barnard Lightfoot Who was accidentally killed in the 45th year of his age. This monument was erected by his grateful family.

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Sacred to the remains of Jonathan Thompson. A pious Christian and affectionate husband. His disconsolate widow continues to carry on his grocery business At the old stand on Main Street: Cheapest and best prices in town.

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Poorly lived and poorly died. Poorly buried and no one cried.

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Eliza, sorrowing rears this marble slab to her dear John who died of eating crab.

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Mary Weary, Housewife. Dere friends I am going where washing ain't done or cooking or sewing: don't mourn for me now or weep for me never: for I go to do nothing, forever and ever!

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Dear Sister, Here lies the body of Mary Ford. We hope her soul is with the Lord But if for hell she's changed this life, better live there than as J. Ford's wife.

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

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An excellent husband was this Mr. Danner, – He lived in a thoroughly honorable manner. – He may have had troubles. – But they burst like bubbles. – He's at peace, now with Mary, Jane Susan and Hannah.

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Dinah had a little can, 'Twas filled with kerosine. And soon among the twinkling stars – Dynamite Benzine.

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Here lies an Atheist. All dressed up and no place to go.

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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.

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This is to the memory of Ellen Hill, a woman who would always have her will. She snubbed her husband but she made good bread. Yet on the whole he’s rather glad she’s dead. She whipped her children and she drank her gin, whipped virtue out and whipped the devil in. May all such women go to some great fold, where they through all eternity may scold.

Epitaphs