| Whoever said, "You can't take it with
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| | England, cemetery:
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| you" was obviously not referring to a
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| | Reader if cash thou art
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| sense of humor ...
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| | In want of any
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| Here is a list of actual epitaphs from
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| | Dig 4 feet deep
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| departed souls who clearly had more to
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| | And thou wilt find a Penny.
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| say than the time to say it, or from
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| | On Margaret Daniels grave at Hollywood
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| their next of kin, who wanted to be sure
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| | Cemetery Richmond, Virginia:
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| they literally had the last word:
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| | She always saidher feet were killing
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| On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East
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| | herbut nobody believed her.
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| Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia:
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| | In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England:
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| Here lies
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| | On the 22nd of June
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| Ezekial Aikle
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| | - Jonathan Fiddle -
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| Age 102
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| | Went out of tune.
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| The Good Die Young.
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| | Anna Hopewell's grave in Enosburg Falls,
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| In a London, England cemetery:
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| | Vermont has an epitaph that sounds like
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| Ann Mann
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| | something from a Three Stooges movie:
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| Here lies Ann Mann,
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| | Here lies the body of our Anna
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| Who lived an old maid
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| | Done to death by a banana
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| But died an old Mann.
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| | It wasn't the fruit that laid her low
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| Dec. 8, 1767
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| | But the skin of the thing that made her
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| In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery:
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| | go.
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| Anna Wallace
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| | Here's more fun with names, this time
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| The children of Israel wanted bread
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| | featuring Owen Moore in Battersea,
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| And the Lord sent them manna,
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| | London, England:
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| Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife,
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| | Gone away
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| And the Devil sent him Anna.
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| | Owin' more
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| Playing with names in a Ruidoso, New
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| | Than he could pay.
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| Mexico, cemetery:
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| | Someone in Winslow, Maine didn't like Mr
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| Here lies
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| | Wood:
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| Johnny Yeast
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| | In Memory of Beza Wood
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| Pardon me
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| | Departed this life
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| For not rising.
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| | Nov. 2, 1837
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| Memory of an accident in a Uniontown,
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| | Aged 45 yrs.
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| Pennsylvania cemetery:
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| | Here lies one Wood
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| Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake
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| | Enclosed in wood
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| Stepped on the gas
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| | One Wood
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| Instead of the brake.
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| | Within another.
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| In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery:
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| | The outer wood
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| Here lays Butch,
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| | Is very good:
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| We planted him raw.
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| | We cannot praise
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| He was quick on the trigger,
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| | The other.
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| But slow on the draw.
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| | On a grave from the 1880's in Nantucket,
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| A widow wrote this epitaph in a Vermont
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| | Massachusetts:
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| cemetery:
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| | Under the sod and under the trees
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| Sacred to the memory of my husband John
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| | Lies the body of Jonathan Pease.
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| Barneswho died January 3, 1803
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| | He is not here, there's only the pod:
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| His comely young widow, aged 23, has many
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| | Pease shelled out and went to God.
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| qualifications of a good wife, and yearns
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| | The grave of Ellen Shannon in Girard,
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| to be comforted.
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| | Pennsylvania is almost a consumer tip:
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| A lawyer's epitaph in England:
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| | Who was fatally burned
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| Sir John Strange
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| | March 21, 1870by the explosion of a
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| Here lies an honest lawyer,
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| | lampfilled with "R.E. Danforth's
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| And that is Strange.
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| | Non-Explosive Burning Fluid"
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| Someone determined to be anonymous in
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| | Here's Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New
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| Stowe, Vermont:
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| | York:
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| I was somebody.
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| | Born 1903--Died 1942
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| Who, is no business
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| | Looked up the elevator shaft to see if
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| Of yours.
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| | the car was on the way down.
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| Lester Moore was a Wells Fargo station
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| | It was.
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| agent for Naco, Arizona in the cowboy
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| | In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery:
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| days of the 1880's. He's buried in the
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| | Here lies an Atheist
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| Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:
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| | All dressed up
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| Here lies Lester Moore
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| | And no place to go.
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| Four slugs from a .44
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| | But does he make house calls? Dr Fred
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| No Les No More.
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| | Roberts, Brookland, Arkansas:
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| In a Georgia cemetery:
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| | Office now upstairs
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| "I told you I was sick!"
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| | Let's hope.
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| John Penny's epitaph in the Wimborne,
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