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Epitaphs
EPITAPHS
ON RICHARD HIND
Here lies the body of Richard Hind,
Who was neither ingenious, sober, nor kind.
ON WILL SMITH
Here lies Will Smith—and, what's something rarish,
He was born, bred, and hanged, all in the same parish.
AT GREAT TORRINGTON, DEVON
Here lies a man who was killed by lightning;
He died when his prospects seemed to be brightening.
He might have cut a flash in this world of trouble,
But the flash cut him, and he lies in the stubble.
AT ABERDEEN
Here lie I, Martin Elginbrodde:
Have mercy o' my soul, Lord God,
As I wad do, were I Lord God,
And ye were Martin Elginbrodde.
AT HADLEIGH, SUFFOLK
To free me from domestic strife
Death called at my house, but he spake with my wife,
Susan, wife of David Pattison, lies here,
Stop, Reader, and if not in a hurry, shed a tear.
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