Subject: Epitaphs
This is the last long resting place, Of Aunt Jemima Jones, Her soul ascended into space, Amidst our tears and groans, She was not pleasing to the eye, Nor had she any brain, And when she talked twas through her nose, Which gave her friends much pain, But still we feel that she was worth, The money that was spent, upon the coffin, hearse and stone (The funeral plumes were lent).