Funny Epitaphs

Lets talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,

— Richard II

Let there be no inscription upon my tomb; let no man write my epitaph. 

— Robert Emmet 

An old American funny epitaph

Under this sod, and under these trees, 

Lieth the body of Samuel Pease;

He is not in this hole, but only his pod, 

He shelled out his soul and went up to God. 

Here lies the body of Johnny Haskell,

A lying, thieving, cheating rascal; 

He always lied, and now he lies, 

He has no soul and cannot rise. 

An Irishman wrote the following oft-quoted lines for his epitaph

Paddy O'Blase;

My body quite at its aise is, 

With the tip of my nose 

And the points of my toes 

Turned up to the roots of the daisies. 

Underneath this pile of stones 

Lie's all that's left of Sally Jones. 

Her name was Lord it was not Jones. 

But Jones was used to rhyme with stones. 

Grim death took me without any warning, 

I was well one day, and stone dead next morning. 

Sarah Thomas is dead and that's enough 

The candle is out and so is the snuff 

Her soul is in Heaven you need not fear 

And all that's left is buried here. 

She was in health at 11.30 A.m. 

And left for Heaven at 3 30 P.m. 

Here lies my wife in earthly mould, 

Who when she lived did naught but scold. 

Peace I wake her not, for now she's still, 

She had; but now I have my will. 

Some have children others none. 

Here lies the mother of twenty one. 

Mammy and I together lived, 

Just three years and a half. 

She went first, I followed next| 

The cow before the calf. 

"He is Not Here." 

Here lies a kind and loving wife, 

A tender nursing mother; 

A neighbor free from brawl and strife, 

A pattern for all others. 

He's done with catching cod 

And gone to meet his God. 

The pale consumption gave the fatal blow. 

The fate was certain although the event was slow. 

What tho' in age I leave my Wife 

And all the joys of human life 

Grieve not my friends to see me die 

For so must you as well as I. 

Life is a flower that soon will fade 

And Death a debt that must be paid 

So farewell friends, your grief refrain 

When Christ appears we '11 meet again. 

He 'rose in health at early dawn 

To hail the new born year: 

Before the evening shade came on 

He finished his career. 

He got a fish bone in his throat 

And then he sang an angel's note. 

He heard the angels calling him, 

From the celestial shore. 

He flopped his wings and away he flew 

To make one angel more. 

There was a man who died of late. 

Whom angels did impatient wait 

With outstretched arms and smiles of love 

To take him up to the realms above. 

While hovering 'round the lower skies 

Still disputing for the prize, 

The devil slipped in like a weasel 

And down to Hell he took old Keezle. 

The following epitaph demonstrates a little self promotion!

Here lies Jane Smith, 

Wife of Thomas Smith, Marble Cutter. 

This monument was erected by her husband as a tribute 

to her memory and a specimen of his work. 

Monuments of this same style are two hundred and fifty dollars. 

Weight 309 lbs. 

Open wide ye golden gates 

That lead to the heavenly shore. 

Our father suffered in passing through 

And mother weighs much more. 

He never won immortal fame 

Nor conquered earthly ills 

But men weep for him all the same 

He always paid his bills. 

She tormented him until he dried up like a bundle of Straw. 

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. 

If heaven be pleased when sinners cease to sin, 

If Hell be pleased when sinners enter in, 

If earth be pleased when ridded of a knave, 

Then all are pleased for Coleman's in his grave. 

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