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.
In the Boot Hill Cemetery, Tombstone, Arizona...
Here lies Lester Moore
Four slugs from a fourty-four
No Les No More.
On atheist Arthur Haine’s epitaph, Vancouver, Washington...
In a Thurmont, Maryland cemetery
Here lies an Atheist
All dressed up
And no place to go.
On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia
Here lies Ezekial Aikle, Age 102.
The Good Die Young.
In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery
The children of Israel wanted bread,
And the Lord sent them manna.
Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife,
And the Devil sent him Anna.
In a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery
Here lies Johnny Yeast.
For not rising.
In a Uniontown, Pennsylvania, cemetery
Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake.
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake.
In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery
Here lays The Kid.
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger
But slow on the draw.
A lawyer’s epitaph in England
Sir John Strange.
Here lies an honest lawyer,
And that is Strange.
John Penny’s epitaph in the Wimborne, England, cemetery
Reader, if cash thou art
In want of any,
Dig 6 feet deep
And thou wilt find a Penny.
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
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.
On a grave from the 1880s 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.
In a London, England, cemetery...
Who lived an old maid
But died an old Mann.
In a Georgia cemetery...
“I told you I was sick!”
On a fisherman’s grave, New Shoreham, Rhode Island...
Captain Thomas Coffin
Died 1842, age 50 years.
He’s done a-catching cod
And gone to meet his God.
On a coal miner’s grave...
Gone Underground For Good
On a dentist’s tombstone, Edinburgh, Scotland...
This ground with gravity.
Is filling his last cavity.
On a teacher’s tombstone, Elkhart, Indiana...
School is out
Teacher has gone home.
On an attorney’s tombstone...
The defense rests.
On a brewer’s tombstone...
G. Winch, the brewer, lies buried here.
In life he was both hale and stout.
Death brought him to his bitter bier.
Now in heaven he hops about.
On a waiter’s tombstone...
Here lies the body of
God finally caught his eye.
On a grave at Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond, Virginia...
She always said her feet were killing her
But nobody believed her.
On a painter’s tombstone...
A Finished Artist.
On an auctioneer’s tombstone...
On a traveling salesman’s tombstone...
My Trip is Ended:
Send My Samples Home
For a music conductor...
Stephen and Time are now both even;
Stephen beat Time, and now Time’s beat Stephen
On a doctor’s tombstone...
Dr. Fred Roberts
1875 - 1931
In a churchyard in South Wales...
Hurrah! my boys, at the Parson’s fall,
For if he’d lived he’d a buried us all.
On a housewife’s tombstone...
Mary Weary, Housewife
Dear Friends I am going
Where washing ain’t done
Or cooking or sewing:
Don’t mourn for me now
Or weep for me never:
For I go to do nothing
Forever and ever!
On an adulterous husband...
Gone, but not forgiven
On a spinster postmistress’s tombstone, North Carolina...
Returned - Unopened
In Battersea. London, England...
Than he could pay.
Someone in Winslow, Maine, didn’t like Mr. Wood...
Here lies one Wood
Enclosed in wood
One Wood within another.
The out wood is very good:
We cannot praise the other.
Boot Hill Cemetery, Arizona...
He was young
He was fair
But the Injuns
Raised his hair.
Silver City, Nevada...
Here lies a man named Zeke.
Second fastest draw in Cripple Creek.
On a tombstone in Florida...
Ma Loved Pa,
Pa Loved Women,
Ma caught Pa with one in swimmin...
Here Lies Pa
Schenectady, New York...
He got a fish-bone in his throat
and then he sang an angel note.
Winterborn Steepleton Cemetery, Dorsetshire, England...
Here lies the body of Margaret Bent
She kicked up her heels and away she went.
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 tombstone:
To follow you I’ll not consent
Until I know which way you went.
On a Hookstone, Pennsylvania tombstone with an etching of a marijuana plant on it...
On a Chapel Hill cemetary...
I was Carolina Born
and Carolina bred
and here I lay
On a tombstone of a newborn in Ashby de la Zooch, England...
Ope’d my eyes
Took a peep.
Didn’t like it
Went back to sleep.
In Rock Valley, Massachusets...
We all have a debt
To nature due
I’ve paid mine
And so must you.
On an Australian country tombstone...
Wherever you be,
Let your wind go free.
For holding it in,
Was the killing of me.
On a hanged man...
Who died for the want
of another breath.
On a hanged sheep stealer, Larne, Ireland...
Here lies the body of Thomas Kemp.
Who lived by wool and died by hemp.
On a coroner who hung himself, West Grimstead, Sussex, England...
On a miser who wanted to save money...
When his wife died, the wording was changed to...
Here lieth Thorpses Corpses.
... and a few “Miscellaneous” Tombstone Epitaphs...
Here lies old Aunt Hannah Proctor
Who purged but didn’t call the Doctor:
She couldn’t stay, She had to go
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
A zealous locksmith died of late,
And did arrive at heaven’s gate; He stood without and would not knock,
Because he meant to pick the lock.
This spot is the sweetest I’ve seen in my life,
For it raises my flowers and covers my wife.
Was hanged by mistake.
Beneath this stone my wife doth lie
Now she’s at rest and so am I.
He looked for gold
And died of lead poison.
Here lies the bones of Private Jones
For whom War held no terrors.
A private then, a private now
No runs, No hits, just errors.
Here’s to Johnny quite a guy
Very sad he had to die
All was well could not be better
Till he wrote my girl a letter.
She was not smart, she was not fair,
But hearts with grief for her are swellin’;
All empty stands her little chair:
She died of eatin’ water-mellon.
Here lies the body of Mary Ford.
We hope her soul is with the Lord.
But if for hell she’s changed this life,
Better live there than as J. Ford’s wife.
Grieve not for me my husband dear.
I am not dead but sleeping here.
With patience wait - perforce to die
And in a short time you’ll come to I.
And the husband added:
I am not grieved, my dearest life.
Sleep on, I’ve got another wife.
Therefore, I cannot come to thee
For I must go and live with she.
I plant these shrubs upon your grave dear wife
That something on this spot may boast of life.
Shrubs must wither and all earth must rot.
Shrubs may revive, but you (thank heaven) will not.
Here lies the body of poor Aunt Charlotte.
Born a virgin, died a harlot.
For 16 years she kept her virginity
A damn’d long time for this vicinity.
my wife for 47 years,
and this is the first damn thing
she ever done to oblige me.
Tears cannot restore her -
Therefore I weep.
I put my wife beneath this stone
For her repose and for my own.
Cold is my bed, but oh, I love it,
For colder are my friends above it.
Here beneath this pile of stones
Lies all thats left of Sally Jones.
Her name was Smith, not Jones,
But Jones was used to rhyme with stones.
Here lies the body of Mary Ann Lowder
She burst while drinking a Seidlitz powder.
Called from this world to her heavenly rest,
She should have waited till it effervesced.
They abounded in riches
But she wore the britches.
First a Cough
Carried Me Off
Then a Coffin
They Carried Me Off In
Highest Human Position In The World
You Never Call
Columbia Street Party
Fly By Meal
Hanging Out With Friends
You Want Me To Do What?
Litter of DalCations