A Baker:
Throughout his life he kneaded bread
And deemed it quite a bore.
And now six feet beneath earth's crust
He needeth bread no more.

Physician, I. Letsome, wrote his own epitaph:
When people's ills, they come to I
I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em;
Sometimes they live, sometimes they die;
What's that to I?
I. Letsome.

Teacher and principal S.B. McCracken, Elkhart, Indiana wrote his epitaph:
School is out
Teacher has gone home.

A fisherman near Ripon, York
Here lies poor but honest
Bryan Tunstall
He was a most expert angler
until Death envious of his art, threw out his line hooked him
And landed him here the 21st day of April
1790

An inventor:
Here lies Salvino Armalo D'Armati
of Florence,
the inventor of spectacles.
May God pardon his sins!
The year 1318

A doctor in Brookland, Arkansas:
Dr. Fred Roberts
1875-1931
Office upstairs.

This Bartender's epitaph was never spoken by him in life:
This is on me, boys!

Pardon the puns of this Irish Grocer:
Here lie the remains of John Hall, grocer
The world is not worth a fig, and I have good raisins for saying so.

This man was a nitro glycerin driver during Findlay, Ohio's great oil boom in the 1880's:
THE MAN BURIED HERE LITERALLY WENT TO THE FOUR WINDS.

N. Hardy Payne, died 1936, aged 48, in Lubbock Texas: Whatever he did, he did it right.
He burnt his candle at both ends
It did not last the night,
But oh, my dears, and oh, my friends, It made a lovely light.

From Bletchley Bucks, England:
Here lies the body of Thomas Kemp
Who lived by wool and died by hemp
This farmer buried in Concord, Massachusetts had many debts:
Ephraim Wales Bull
He sowed, Others reaped.

Abe Bell manufactured fireworks:
He has gone to the only place where his own works are excelled.

A man of many talents buried in Burlington,Vermont:
The mortal remains of Ethan Allen, fighter, writer, statesman, and philosopher,
Lie in this cemetery beneath the marble statue.
His spirit is in Vermont now.

On a dentist's tombstone:
Stranger,
approach this spot with gravity;
John Brown is filling his last cavity.

A highclimber from Canyonville, Oregon:
Paul Lennis Swank
Here under the dung of the cows and sheep,
Lies an old highclimber fast asleep.
His trees all topped and his lines all hung,
They say the old rascal died full of rum.

A fisherman at heart from Nowra, NSW Australia:
Arthur James Sutton
5.6.1946 - 31.1.1996
Beloved Husband Of Barbara
'Gone fishing', the sign said that hung upon the door.
An Angel had put it there, God was waiting on the shore.

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