These epitaphs are allegedly taken from actual tombstones  (I know you are dying to read them) ~  ~   On the grave of Ezekiel 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.  Playing with names in a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery:         Here lies Johnny Yeast, Pardon me For not rising.  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. 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. Lester Moore was a Wells, Fargo Co. station agent for Naco, Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880's.         He's buried in the Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:         Here lies Lester Moore.  Four slugs from a .44.  No Les No More. 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. But does he make house calls?         Dr. Fred Roberts, Brookland, Arkansas: Office upstairs