OT: Actual epitaths (long but too good to not share)

OT: Actual epitaths (long but too good to not share)

Post by Brynn Robbi » Tue, 18 May 1999 04:00:00

 Actual epitaphs from gravestones ...

  On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery,
 Nova Scotia:

             Here lies
             Ezekial Aikle
             Age 102
             The Good
             Die Young.

  In a London, England cemetery:

             Ann Mann
             Here lies Ann Mann,
             Who lived an old maid
             But died an old Mann.
             Dec. 8, 1767

  In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery:

             Anna Wallace
             The children of Israel wanted bread
             And the Lord sent them manna,    
             Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife,
             And the Devil sent him Anna.

  Playing with names in a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery:

             Here lies
             Johnny Yeast
             Pardon me
             For not rising.

  Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania

             Here lies the body
             of Jonathan Blake
             Stepped on the gas
             Instead of the brake.
In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery:

             Here lays Butch,
             We planted him raw.
             He was quick on the trigger,
             But slow on the draw.

 A widow wrote this epitaph in a Vermont cemetery:

             Sacred to the memory of
             my husband John Barnes
             who died January 3, 1803
             His comely young widow, aged 23, has
             many qualifications of a good wife, and
             yearns to be comforted.

  A lawyer's epitaph in England:

             Sir John Strange
             Here lies an honest lawyer,
             And that is Strange.

  Someone determined to be anonymous in Stowe, Vermont:

             I was somebody.
             Who, is no business
             Of yours.

  Lester Moore was a Wells, Fargo Co. station agent for Naco,
  Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880's.  He's buried in the Boot
Hill       Cemetery in  Tombtone, Arizona:

             Here lies Lester Moore
             Four slugs from a .44
             No Les No More.

  In a Georgia cemetery:

             "I told you I was sick!"

  John Penny's epitaph in the Wimborne, England, cemetery:

             Reader if cash thou art
             In want of any
             Dig 4 feet deep
             And thou wilt find a Penny.

  On Margaret Daniels grave at Hollywood Cemetery
  Richmond, ***ia:

             She always said her feet were killing her
             but nobody believed her.

  In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England:

             On the 22nd of June
            - Jonathan Fiddle -
              Went out of tune.

 Anna Hopewell's grave in Enosburg Falls, Vermont has an
 epitaph that sounds like something from a Three Stooges movie:

             Here lies the body of our Anna
             Done to death by a banana
             It wasn't the fruit that laid her low
             But the skin of the thing that made her go.

  More fun with names with Owen Moore in Battersea,
 London, England:

             Gone away
             Owin' more
             Than he could pay.

  Someone in Winslow, Maine didn't like Mr. Wood:

             In Memory of Beza Wood
             Departed this life
             Nov. 2, 1837
             Aged 45 yrs.
             Here lies one Wood
             Enclosed in wood
             One Wood
             Within another.
             The outer wood
             Is very good:
             We cannot praise
             The other.

  On a grave from the 1880's in Nantucket, Massachusetts:

             Under the sod and under the trees
             Lies the body of Jonathan Pease.
             He is not here, there's only the pod:
             Pease shelled out and went to God.

  The grave of Ellen Shannon in Girard, Pennsylvania is
 almost a consumer tip:

             Who was fatally burned
             March 21, 1870
             by the explosion of a lamp
             filled with "R.E. Danforth's
             Non-Explosive Burning Fluid"

  Oops! Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York:

             Born 1903--Died 1942
             Looked up the elevator shaft to see if
             the car was on the way down. It was.

 In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery:

             Here lies an Atheist
             All dressed up
             And no place to go.

  In a cemetery in England:
         Remember man, as you walk by,
         As you are now, so once was I,
         As I am now, so shall you be,
         Remember this and follow me.

  To which someone replied by writing on the tombstome:

         To follow you I'll not consent,
         Until I know which way you went.


OT: Actual epitaths (long but too good to not share)

Post by SSherbur » Wed, 19 May 1999 04:00:00

>Actual epitaphs from gravestones

Shame on me, some of these made me
laugh. especially "Here lies an atheist.
All dress up and no place to go."
Almost spit my soda out!

           (  (     /  )
      (  (   (     A    )
   ( ( ( (  ( (       0  \
 ( (   (  (       _        \
(   (     (      /  \___ /


OT: Actual epitaths (long but too good to not share)

Post by MaryPulv » Wed, 19 May 1999 04:00:00

Not all of the epitaphs cited are actually on someone's tombstone.  I have a
lovely book called Over Their Dead Bodies (isn't that a great title?) that
lists both authentic and aprocryphal (fake) epitaphs.  Some are very touching,
some are sad, some are funny.

Mary Monica

There are three rules for writing a novel.  Unfortunately, nobody knows what
they are. -Somerset Maugham


OT: Actual epitaths (long but too good to not share)

Post by Tina Vol » Wed, 19 May 1999 04:00:00

I have a friend who researches graveyards and the stone in them.  Near
Philidelphia Pa she foound a stone with a women's name and a potato
salad recipe.   This needed to be researched.   she found a family
member that said the women made the best potato salad around.  When
people would ask for the recipe she would say over my dead body.