He who gets the last word sometimes
loses out, as a tombstone in Monmouth illustrates.
Mrs Murr died in 1820 and paid the
stonemason to put this on her tomb.
‘Ye, who possess the brightest
charms of life,
A tender friend, a kind indulgent
wife,
Oh, learn their worth!
In her beneath this stone,
These pleasant attributes shone,
Was not true happiness with them
combined?
Ask the spoiled being she’s left
behind.’
The ‘spoiled being,’ her husband, died a few years later but there was insufficient space on the headstone for
anything but this: ‘He’s gone, too.’
3 comments:
Ouch.
It's a shame I plan to be cremated. I would've loved to have left with a witty epitaph.
Something like Rodney Dangerfield's: There goes the neighborhood.
I quite fancy one of those small forests sprouting up in Britain where the corpse is buried in a biodegradable coffin with an oak seed or a tree of your choice. More aesthetically pleasing than headstones, though a heart with an arrow through it and some callow comment from some love-struck youth as you metamorphose into a tree leaves something to be desired. Love the Dangerfield quote : )
The only one that comes to mind is that on Mel Blanc's memorial: "That's all folks."
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