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.

Here lies the father of 29
There would have been more
But he didn't have time.

Here lies my wife
  Here let her lie 
Now she has peace 
And so do I 

Here lies a virgin
With her babe resting in her arms.

Here lies Ned
There is nothing more to be said
Because we like to speak
well of the dead.

Here lies Lester Moore,
  Four slugs from a forty-four.
No Les, No Moore. 

In loving memory of Ellen Shannon, aged 25, 
Who was accidentally burned March 21, 1870, 
By the explosion of a lamp filled with R.E. Danforth's Non-explosive burning fluid. 

Here lies an atheist,
All dressed up and,
No place to go.

Here lays Butch, 
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger, 
But slow on the draw.

She lived with her husband fifty years
And died in the confident hope of a better life.

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.

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.

Ann Mann
Here lies Ann Mann,
Who lived an old maid
But died an old Mann.
Dec. 8, 1767

 Harry Edsel Smith
Born 1903--Died 1942 
Looked up the elevator shaft 
to see if  the car was on 
the way down. 
It was.

Honey you don't know 
what you did for me, 
Always playing the lottery.
The numbers you picked
 came in to play, 
Two days after you passed away.
For this, 
a huge monument I do erect,
 For now I get a yearly check.
How I wish you were alive,
 For now we are worth 8.5
 (Actual epitaph of Elizabeth Rich,
 Eufala, Alabama)

Under the sod, 
Under the trees, 
Lies the body of 
Bolivar Peas, 
Peas ain't here, 
Only the pod, 
Peas shelled out 
and went home to God.