Keyword: In Massachusetts

Fhebe Sprague. – In the sixteenth year of her age, – Natively quick and spry – As all young people be, – When God commands them down to dust, – How quick they drop you see.

Epitaphs

Here lies one John Witherbee, – A Boston gallant chap was he. – God had no use for such as he, – The devil rejected Witherbee.

Epitaphs

Dear Lemuel Willard Died in 1821 – When present useful, absent wanted – Lived respected, died lamented.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man beneath this sod, – Who slandered all except his God, – And him he would have slandered too, – But that his God he never knew.

Epitaphs

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