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
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.
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.
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.