Richard Fuller lies buried here,
Do not withhold the crystal tear,
For when he liv’d he daily fed
Woman and man and child with bread.
But now alas he’s turned to dust,
As thou and I and all soon must,
And lies beneath this turf so green,
Where worms do daily feed on him.
An Original.
Here lies fast asleep, awake me who can,
The medley of passion and follies, a Man
Who sometimes lov’d licence and sometimes restraint,
Too much of the sinner, too little of saint;
From quarter to quarter I shifted my tack;
Gainst the evils of life a most notable quack;
But, alas! I soon found the defects of my skill,
And my nostrums in practice proved treacherous still;
From life’s certain ills ’twas in vain to seek ease,
The remedy oft proved another disease;
What in rapture began often ended in sorrow,
And the pleasure to-day brought reflection to-morrow;
When each action was o’er and its errors were seen,
Then I viewed with surprise the strange thing I had been;
My body and mind were so oddly contrived,
That at each other’s failing both parties conniv’d,
Imprudence of mind brought on sickness and pain,
The body diseas’d paid the debt back again.
Thus coupled together life’s journey they pass’d,
Till they wrangled and jangled and parted at last;
Thus tired and weary, I’ve finished my course,
And glad it is bed time, and things are no worse.
On a Publican.
Thomas Thompson’s buried here,
And what is more he’s in his bier,
In life thy bier did thee surround,
And now with thee is in the ground.
On a Porter, who died suddenly under a load.
Pack’d up within these dark abodes,
Lies one in life inur’d to loads,
Which oft he carried ’tis well known,
Till Death pass’d by and threw him down.When he that carried loads before,
Became a load which others bore
To this his inn, where, as they say,
They leave him till another day.
A jolly landlord once was I,
And kept the Old King’s Head hard by,
Sold mead and gin, cider and beer,
And eke all other kinds of cheer,
Till death my license took away
And put me in this house of clay,
A house at which you all must call,
Sooner or later, great and small.
On a Parish Clerk.