Good Reading at the Cemetery

 
I’ve spent a bit of time walking through cemeteries.  I’ve done it with my grandkids searching for ghosts.  We carried flashlights and looked for signs that ghosts were lingering close by.

I’ve also walked through cemeteries looking for the markers of the famous people.

I’ve walked through many more cemeteries looking for evidence that my own ancestors were planted there.

Nothing is more fun than reading the inscriptions on the stones.  Some of them are absolutely hilarious.  Here are just a few.
  

He was young He was fair But the Injuns Raised his hair

My wife died and here she lies Nobody laughed and nobody cried How she is and how she fares Nobody knows and nobody cares.

 

 

Here lies my Wife in Earthy Mold Who when she Died and naught but Scold Good Friends go softly in your walking Lest she should Wake and Rise up Talking

 

Here lies my wife: Here let her lie! Now she's at rest And so am I.

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.

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

On John Yeast: Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon me For not rising.

1787 - Jones - 1855 Here lie the bones of Sophie Jones; For her death held no terrors. She was born a maid and died a maid. No hits, no runs, and no heirs.

   

Beneath his silent stone is laid A noisy, antiquated maid, Who from her cradle talked to death, And never before was out of breath. Here lies, returned to clay Miss Arabella Young, Who on the eleventh day of May Began to hold her tongue.

Dear Sister 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.

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.

Here lies Elizabeth, my wife for 47 years, and this is the first damn thing she ever done to oblige me.

   

On an adulterous husband: Gone, but not forgiven

  

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.

Was hanged by mistake.

  

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

Once I wasn't Then I was Now I ain't again.

'Tis life on the road.