Genealogy Chat

Search for Britain's most remarkable epitaph By Caroline Davies - Telegraph Newspaper Last Updated: 12:07am BST 24/07/2007 Have your say: Write your own epitaph The Last Word Some choose their own. Others think it too morbid. Some boast of achievement. Others want to be modest. They can be witty or doom-laden, long or short, informative or tell you very little that's useful. Epitaphs, from the ancient Greek literally meaning 'on the gravestone' and the text that honours the deceased commonly inscribed on a tombstone, come in many forms. advertisement. But in Britain they have one thing in common - they are in danger of being lost for ever. So serious is the situation that today a campaign is being launched to try to record as many as possible before it is too late. Each year in England 25,000 gravestones are lost and with them the important historical information they contain. 'People want nice tidy churchyards and don't want to mow around higgledy, piggledy gravestones so they move them and they break, or they lay them face down and they get forgotten then broken up for paving stones,' said Richard Stuart, the director of the National Archive of Memorial Inscriptions who has made it his mission to record details of as many as possible. 'These inscriptions contain unique information not found anywhere else before the 1840s,' he said. 'Some people put a lot of effort into thinking exactly what they want on their tombstone. It's their last words on earth and they want them to be just right.' There are an estimated eight million graves in England but so far the details of only two million have been recorded. The number of graves in the whole of Britain could be as high as 20 million. 'The first census where records were extensively preserved was in 1841, and the first Births, Deaths and Marriages register was in 1837,' said Mr Stuart. 'Before that, there are only the parish registers and some of those don't contain any more information than name and date of death. For those tracing their family, they can't tell whether it's a brother, son or father. A gravestone almost always says 'beloved brother of' or 'beloved son of' .' The archive, with BBC History Magazine, is launching the Mysterious Memorials competition to get readers to submit the 'most surprising, enigmatic or bizarre' historical British gravestone epitaphs. 'We have to record this information before it dies out before our eyes,' said Mr Stuart. Contenders so far include one from Eshness in the Shetlands that reads: 'Donald Robertson, born 14th January 1785. Died 14th June aged 63. He was a peaceable, quiet man, and to all appearances a sincere Christian. His death was much regretted which was caused by the stupidity of Laurence Tulloch of Clothister (Sullom) who sold him nitre instead of Epsom Salts by which he was killed in the space of five hours after taking a dose of it.' Another from All Saints Church, Darfield, Barnsley, states simply: 'The mortal remains of Robert Millthorp who died September 13th 1826 aged 19 years. He lost his life by inadvertently throwing this stone upon himself whilst in the service of James Raywood or Ardsley, who erected it in his memory'. On a darker note is an entry from All Saints, Wilstead, Beds, which reads: 'I you see as you pass by, As you are so once was I, As I am so must you be, Therefore prepare to follow me.' Dave Musgrove, the editor of BBC History Magazine, said: 'Gravestones are vital to learning about our family and local history. From accounts of bizarre deaths and witty last words, to highlights of lives lived, personal assaults and biting social commentary, they tell us some fascinating stories of past human life, and that's exactly what we're asking people to find for us'. The best entry will be announced in October's edition of the Telegraph magazine.

Where Are the Wicked Folk Buried? 'Tell me, grey-haired sexton,' said I, 'Where in the field are the wicked folk laid? I have wandered the quiet old graveyard through, And studied the epitaphs, old and new, But on monument, obelisk, pillar, or stone, I read no evil that men have done.' The old sexton stood by a grave newly made, With his chin on his hand, his hand on a spade: 'Who is the judge when the soul takes its flight? Who is the judge 'twixt the wrong and the right? Which of us mortals shall dare to say That our neighbour was wicked who died to-day?' 'In our journey through life, the farther we speed, The better we learn that humility's need Is charity's spirit that prompts us to find Rather virtue than vice in the lives of our kind.' 'Therefore good deeds we record on these stones; The evil men do, let it rest with their bones' I have laboured as sexton this many a year, But I never have buried a bad man here.'

May all your ancestors be like vegetables in the fall -- turnip!!! --Author Unknown -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lester Moore was a Wells Fargo Co. station agent. Here is the epitaph from his tombstone at Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona: Here lies Lester Moore Four slugs from a .44 No Les No More. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Translated into Chinese, Pepsi's 'Come alive with the Pepsi Generation' slogan became 'Pepsi brings your ancestors back from the grave!' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Genealogy is not fatal, but it is a grave disease. --Author Unknown -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'I'm My Own Grandpa' Now many many years ago when I was twenty-three I was married to a widow who was pretty as can be. This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red. My father fell in love with her and soon they too were wed. CHORUS Oh, I'm my own grandpa I'm my own grandpa It sounds funny I know But it really is so Oh, I'm my own grandpa. This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life. My daughter was my mother, 'cause she was my father's wife. To complicate the matter even though it brought me joy, I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy. My little baby then became a brother-in-law to Dad, And so became my uncle though it was very sad. For if he was my uncle then that also made him brother Of the widow's grown-up daughter who of course was my step-mother. Father's wife then had a son who kept him on the run, And he became my grandchild for he was my daughter's son. My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue, Because although she is my wife she's my grandmother, too. Now if my wife is my grandmother then I'm her grandchild, And every time I think of it it nearly drives me wild, For now I have become the strangest case I ever saw. As husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa. Based on a Mark Twain Anecdote If.... If you could see your ancestors All standing in a row, Would you be proud of them? Or don't you really know? Some mighty strange discoveries are made In climbing family trees, And some of them, you know Might not particularly please If you could see your ancestors All standing in a row There might be some of them You wouldn't care to know. But here is another question That requires a different view. If you could meet your ancestors, What would they think of you? --Mable Baker --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My epitaph..(to be) Still none the bl**dy wiser! Gerri x

Was it Spike who asked for 'See, told you I was ill'?

on a headstone in new mexico here lies johnny yeast pardon me for not rising. dawn

On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia: Here lies Ezekial Aikle Age 102 The Good Die Young. In a London, England cemetery: Ann Mann Here lies Ann Mann, Who lived an old maid But died an old Mann. Dec. 8, 1767 In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery: Anna Wallace The children of Israel wanted bread And the Lord sent them manna, Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife, And the Devil sent him Anna. Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery: Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake Stepped on the gas Instead of the brake. In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery: Here lays Butch, We planted him raw. He was quick on the trigger, But slow on the draw. A widow wrote this epitaph in a Vermont cemetery: Sacred to the memory of my husband John Barnes who died January 3, 1803 His comely young widow, aged 23, has many qualifications of a good wife, and yearns to be comforted. (ed: guess they did not have personal ads then) A lawyer's epitaph in England: Sir John Strange Here lies an honest lawyer, And that is Strange. Someone determined to be anonymous in Stowe, Vermont: I was somebody. Who, is no business Of yours. In a Georgia cemetery: 'I told you I was sick!' John Penny's epitaph in the Wimborne, England, cemetery: Reader if cash thou art In want of any Dig 4 feet deep And thou wilt find a Penny. On Margaret Daniels grave at Hollywood Cemetery Richmond, Virginia: She always said her feet were killing her but nobody believed her. In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England: On the 22nd of June - Jonathan Fiddle - Went out of tune. Anna Hopewell's grave in Enosburg Falls, Vermont has an epitaph that sounds like something from a Three Stooges movie: Here lies the body of our Anna Done to death by a banana It wasn't the fruit that laid her low But the skin of the thing that made her go. More fun with names with Owen Moore in Battersea, London, England: Gone away Owin' more Than he could pay. Someone in Winslow, Maine didn't like Mr. Wood: In Memory of Beza Wood Departed this life Nov. 2, 1837 Aged 45 yrs. Here lies one Wood Enclosed in wood One Wood Within another. The outer wood Is very good: We cannot praise The other.

On a grave from the 1880's in Nantucket, Massachusetts: Under the sod and under the trees Lies the body of Jonathan Pease. He is not here, there's only the pod: Pease shelled out and went to God. The grave of Ellen Shannon in Girard, Pennsylvania is almost a consumer tip: Who was fatally burned March 21, 1870 by the explosion of a lamp filled with 'R.E. Danforth's Non-Explosive Burning Fluid' Oops! Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York: Born 1903--Died 1942 Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down. It was. In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery: Here lies an Atheist All dressed up And no place to go. In a cemetery in England: Remember man, as you walk by, As you are now, so once was I, As I am now, so shall you be, Remember this and follow me. To which someone replied by writing on the tombstone: To follow you I'll not consent, Until I know which way you went.

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Nudge...

A few weeks ago they were talking about Epitaphs on This Morning. There were some really great ones but I can't remember them now. Apparently Paul Ross has done a book on them and funeral humour or something.

Epitaph in Heysham (nr Morecambe) Here lies the remains of .... Poet Philosopher Failure!!

On the headstone of John Dyter, Rookwood Cemetery Sydney Farewell, dear wife, my days are past I loved you well while life did last No more sorrow for me now make But love the Bible for my sake. But I think wife Eliza loved the bottle more than the Bible. Di