Rest in peace

I ran across a collection of "unusual epitaphs" the other day. It got me wondering how... or if... I'll be remembered after I die. Let me share a few of them with you:

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Beneath this stone our baby lays

He neither crys or hollers.

He lived just one and twenty days,

And cost us forty dollars.

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Here Betsy Brown her body lies.  

Her soul is flying in the skies.

While here on earth she oftimes spun

Six hundred skeins from sun to sun

And wove one day, her daughter brags,

Two hundred pounds of carpet rags.

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Charity wife of Gideon Bligh

Underneath this stone doth lie

Naught was she e'er known to do

That her husband told her to.

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She lived with her husband fifty years

And died in the confident hope of a better life.

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Here lies the wife of brother Thomas,

Whom tyrant death has torn from us,

Her husband never shed a tear,

Until his wife was buried here.

And then he made a fearful rout,

For fear she might find her way out.

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Here lies the bones of Richard Lawton

Whose death alas! was strangely brought on.

Trying his corns one day to mow off.

His razor slipped and cut his toe off.

His toe or rather what it grew to,

An inflimation quickly flew to.

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A bird, a man, a loaded gun.

No bird, dead man, thy will be done.

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We can but mourn our loss, 

Though wretched was his life.

Death took him from the cross,

Erected by his wife.

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Here lies old Caleb Ham,
By trade a bum.
When he died the devil cried,
Come, Caleb, come.

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When I am dead and in my grave

And all my bones are rotten,

If this you see, remember me

Nor let me be forgotten.

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