Funny Epitaphs :: Epitaphs on Women.

Epitaphs on Women.

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An epitaph from an Irish graveyard:

Here lies the body of Lady O'Looney,
Grand-niece to Edmund Burke,
Commonly called "the sublime."
She was bland, passionate, and religious,
Also,
She painted in water-colors.
Also,
She sent several articles to the Exhibition.
She was first cousin to Lady Jones.
And of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Amen.

At St. Albans:

Sacred to the memory of Miss Martha Gwynn,
Who was so very pure within,
She burst the outer shell of sin,
And hatched herself a cherubim.

There is an epitaph of an eccentric character that may be seen on a tombstone at the burying-grounds near Hoosick Falls, New York. It reads:

Ruth Sprague, Daughter of Gibson and Elizabeth Sprague. Died June 11, 1846, aged 9 years, 4 months, and 3 days.
She was stolen from the grave by Roderick R. Clow, dissected at Dr. P. M. Armstrong's office, in Hoosick, N. Y., from which place her mutilated remains were obtained and deposited here.

Her body dissected by fiendish man,
Her bones anatomized,
Her soul, we trust, has risen to God,
Where few physicians rise.

Here lies the body of Sarah Sexton,
Who as a wife did never vex one.
We can't say that for her at the next stone.

Here lies the body of Ann Mann,
Who lived an old woman,
And died an old Mann.

Epitaph on Lady Molesworth. Burnt to death 6 May, 1763:

A peerless matron, pride of female life
In every state, as widow, maid, or wife;
Who wedded, to threescore preserved her fame,
She lived a phoenix, and expired in flame.

A Welsh husband thus sings above the grave of his better-half:

This spot is the sweetest I've seen in my life,
For it raises my flowers and covers my wife.

At Wolstanton:

MRS. ANN JENNINGS.

Some have children, some have none;
Here lies the mother of twenty-one.

This corpse
Is Phoebe Thorp's.

In memory of the "Wigtown Martyrs:"

Here lyes Margrat Willson, Doughter of Gilbert Willson, in Glenvernoch, who was Drowned Anno 1685, age 18.

Let Earth and stone still witness beare
Their lyes a virgine Martyre Here,
Marter'd for owning Christ Supream
Head of his church and no more crime
But not abjuring Presbytry
And not owning Prelacy.
They her condemned by unjust law,
Within the Sea Ty'd to a stake.
The actors of this cruel crime
Was Lagg Strachan, Winram, and Graham.
Neither young years nor yet old age
Could stop the fury of their rage.

From Nettlebed Churchyard, Oxfordshire:

Here lies father, and mother, and sister, and I;
We all died within the space of one short year;
They were all buried at Wimble except I,
And I be buried here.

Commemorative of Thamozine J., wife of James Vernon:

'Tis with regret, dear Thamozine,
Her voice no more to hear,
I'll banish from my heart
Her groanings in my ear.

Her children were her care,
To me she did request,
Take care and with them share
On your honesty I can trust.

Poor Martha Snell, she's gone away,
She would if she could, but she could not stay;
She'd two bad legs, and a baddish cough,
But her legs it was that carried her off.

Here lies my wife, poor Molly, let her lie,
She finds repose at last, and so do I.

In a Salisbury graveyard, upon a stone recording the death of a lady at the age of sixty-four years, appears the following:

So fair, so young,
So gentle and so dear,
So lovely, so early lost,
May claim a tear.

From Childwald Churchyard, England:

Here lies me and my three daughters,
Brought here by using seidlitz waters.
If we had stuck to epsom salts,
We wouldn't have been here in these vaults.

Arlington, Massachusetts:

Here lies the body of Mary Morgan.
Like the morning dew she glistened,
Exhaled, and went to heaven.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

MRS. MARTHA GIFFORD, 1810.

Sickness sore, long time I bore
Physician's skill in vain,
Till God revealed his tender love
And took away my pain.

And now, I at my anchor ride,
With many of the fleet;
Once more, again, I will set sail
My Saviour Christ to meet.

Susan Tomkins, here she lies;
Nobody laughs, and nobody cries.
Where she's gone, or how she fares,
Nobody knows, and nobody cares.

Here lies the body of Mary Ann Lowder,
Who died while drinking a seidlitz powder.
Called from earth to her heavenly rest,
She should have waited till it effervesced

In Charlestown, Virginia:

She was taken sick the 11th of June,
And only lived ten days;
But she has gone to rest in heaven above,
To sing her Saviour's praise.

Westfield, New Jersey:

The dame that rests beneath this tomb
Had Rachel's beauty, Leah's fruitful womb,
Abigail's wisdom, Lydia's faithful heart,
Martha's just care, and Mary's better part.

Here lies the body of Mary Ann Ford,
We trust her soul is with the Lord,
But if she's missed of eternal life,
It's better than being John Ford's wife.

Here lies the body of Mary Ann Bent,
She kicked up her heels, and away she went.

From Smithfield, Rhode Island, 1796:

While she was at a brook,
And where she did not like to go,
She from her friends was sudden took,
Seized with a fit she's subject to.
Her body in the water lay,
Her weeping husband found the same,
The means was used without delay
To call her back, but all in vain.
Her life to God she did resign,
And angels bore her soul away.
The grave her body now confines
Shall rise triumphant the last day.

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