Curious Epitaphs.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 316, 14 November 1888, Page 3

Curious Epitaphs.

Deak Sik, — The following epitaphs are curious. I once collected such things, but lost the manuscript. I send such as I remem ber :— Here lies my wife, " Poor Molly," le 1" her lie ; She finds repose at last,' And so do I. Beneath this yew tree Buried would he bo, Because his father he Planted this yew tree. Here 1 lies, there's an end to my woes, And my spirit at length at aiae is. With tne tip of my no*e, And the tops of my toes, Turned up to the roots of the daisies. Here lies two babes as dead as nits. They was cut offby ague fits. Here lies poor Thomas and his wife. Who led a pretty .jarring life ; But all is ended, do you see * He holds his tongue, and so does she. If drugs and physic could but save Us mortals from the dreary grave, ' I'is known that I took full enough Of the apothecary's stuff To have prolonged liie's busy feast To a full century at least ; But, spite of all the doctor's skill, Of daily draught and nightly pill. Reader, as sure as you're alive, I was sent here at twenty -five. Within this tomb a lover lies. Who fell an earthly sacri ace To Dolly's unrelenting eyes. For Dolly's charms poor Damon burnedDisdain the cruel maid returned ; But as she danced in May-day pride, Dolly fell down, and Dolly died. And now she lies by Damons side. Be not hard-hearted, then, ye fair! Of Dolly's hapless fate beware ! For sure you'd better go to bed, . To one alive, than one who's dead. Beneath the sod the soldier sleeps, horn cruel war refused to spare ; Beside the grave the maiden weeps. And Glory plants the laurel there. Honour is the warrior's meed, Or spar'd go live, or doom'd to die ; Whether 'tis his lot to bleed, Or join the shout of victory : Alike the laurel to the truly brave That binds the brow, or consecrates the grave. Beneath this stone her ashe.-i rest, Whose memory fills my aching breast; She sleeps unconscious of the tear That tells the tale of sorrow here; But still the hope allys my pain That we may live and love again ; Love with a pure seraphic fire, That npver, never shail expire. Here lies entombed one Roger Morton, Whose sudden death wasearly brought on. Trying one day his corn to mow off, The razor slipped and cut his toe off. The toe, or rather what it grew to, An inflammation quickly flew to ; The parts they took to mortifying, And poor dear Roger took to dying. John Palfreyman, who is buried here, Was aged four and twenty year ; And near this place his mother lies. Likewise his father when he dies. Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, Who long was a booksellers' hack ; He led such a damnable lile in this world, I don't think he'll wish to come back. I am, etc., i J. P. Bible y.