Epitaph On Wm. Hood, Senr., In Tarbolton
Here Souter Hood in death does sleep; To hell if he’s gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep; He’ll haud it weel thegither.
Epitaph On James Grieve, Laird Of Boghead, Tarbolton
Here lies Boghead amang the dead In hopes to get salvation; But if such as he in Heav’n may be, Then welcome, hail! damnation.
Epitaph On My Own Friend And My Father’s Friend, Wm. Muir In Tarbolton Mill
An honest man here lies at rest As e’er God with his image blest; The friend of man, the friend of truth, The friend of age, and guide of youth: Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d, Few heads with knowledge so informed: If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the best of this.