Author: Epitaph Page 7

He has gone to the only place where his own works are excelled.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

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.

Epitaphs

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

Epitaphs

Don't worry, I'm merely catching up with sleep.

Epitaphs Situations Sleep

A traveller lies here at rest, who life's rough ocean tossed on. His many virtues all expressed, thus simply – “I'm from Boston.”

Epitaphs

Death is a debt that’s justly due, that I have paid and so must you.

Epitaphs

Here lies my wife in earthly mould, who when she lived did naught but scold. Peace! Wake her not, for now she’s still, she had; but now I have my will.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man who while he lived was happy as a linnet. He always lied while on the earth and now he's lying in it.

Epitaphs

I put my wife beneath this stone, for her repose and for my own.

Epitaphs

I Was Supposed To Live To Be 102 and Be Shot By A Jealous Husband

Epitaphs

Approach and read, now with your hats on, for here lies Bailie William Watson; who was famous for his thinking, and moderation in his drinking.

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

On this marble drop a tear — Here lies poor Rosalind: All mankind were pleas'd with her, And she with all mankind.

Epitaphs

Called Back.

Epitaphs

He had sand in his craw, But was slow on the draw, So we planted him ‘neath the daisies.

Epitaphs

Sh-h-h

Epitaphs

We must all die there is no doubt – Your glass is running… mine is out

Epitaphs

Here lies Matthew Mudd, Death did him no hurt; when alive he was Mudd, but now he's only dirt

Epitaphs

I am anxiously expecting you. A.D. 1827 — Here I am! – A.D. 1867

Epitaphs

Thorp’s Corpse

Epitaphs