Carrying out some research in St Andrew’s churchyard, Leyland, I came across the following inscription:-

                                             He seldom grieved at worldly loss,

                                             Gold he esteemed as gilded dross,

                                             No change of fortune did destroy,

                                             His peace of mind and heartfelt joy.

That set me thinking: we quoted humorous epitaphs in our church magazine recently. Why not look for a few more?

Here’s one on happy marriage:-

Here Thomas Moore, and his wives four,

Free from debate, Interred lie;

Thomas his son,

Set up this stone,

To propagate their memory.

This one’s more threatening:-

As thou art so was I,

As I am so must thou be.

Sometimes it turns up as part of a longer quotation. Here’s another which turns up in many other churchyards too:-

Our life is but a winter’s day,

Some only breakfast and away,

Others to dinner stay, and are full fed,

The oldest man he sups, then goes to bed.

Large is his debt who lingers out the day,

He who leaves the soonest has the least to pay.

One which can be seen in a Cheltenham churchyard reads:-

Here lies I and my two daughters,

Killed by drinking Cheltenham waters;

If we had stuck to Epsom salts,

We shouldn’t be lying in these here vaults.

Another woman, with a different lament, has the following on her tombstone at Leigh Sinton (Worcestershire):-

Here lies a poor woman who always was tired

But she’s gone to a world where no work is required.

Her last words were these:

"Dear friends I am going to where there’s no cooking or washing or sewing.

They tell me loud anthems will ever be ringing

Troutbeck in the Lake District offers:-

Here lies a woman

No man can deny it

She died in peace, although she lived unquiet

Her husband prays, if e’er this way you walk

You would tread softly - if she wake she’ll talk.

William Stone, a Sussex Blacksmith, is commemorated with these words:-

My sledge and hammer lie reclin’d

My bellows too have lost their wind

My fire extinct, my forge decay’s

And in the dust my vice is laid

My coal is spent, my iron gone

My nails are driven, my work is done.

While Mary Atkinson, a humble winkle-seller from the same area, has:-

"Periwinkle! Periwinkle"

Was ever her cry

She laboured to live

Poor and honest to die.

At the last day again

Her old eyes will twinkle!

For no more will they say

Periwink, Periwinkle

More whimsical is:-

The Angels trumpet sounded

St Peter called out "Come"

The pearly ages swung open

And in walked Mum.

And believe if you will:-

Here lies an atheist

All dressed up and nowhere to go.