Here lyes, by name, the world’s mother,
By nature, my aunt, sister to my mother;
My grandmother, mother to my mother;
My great grandmother, mother to my grandmother;
My grandfather’s daughter and his mother;
All which may rightly be,
Without the breach of consanguinity.
Here lies Robin, but not Robin Hood;
Here lies Robin that never did good;
Here lies Robin by heaven forsak’n;
Here lies Robin—the devil may tak’n.
On a Stay Maker.
Alive, unnumber’d stays he made,
(He work’d industrious night and day;)
E’en dead he still pursues his trade,
For here his bones will make a stay.
Brevity of life.
Man’s life’s a vapour,
And full of woes;
He cuts a caper,
And down he goes.
By Boileau, the Poet.
Here lies my wife, and Heaven knows,
Not less for mine, than her repose!
Here lies poor Thomas, and his Wife,
Who led a pretty jarring life;
But all is ended—do you see?
He holds his tongue, and so does she.