The following will in rhyme was written by William Hunnis, a gentleman of the chapel under Edward VI., and afterwards Chapel Master to Queen Elizabeth:
“To God my soule I do bequeathe, because it is his owen,
My body to be layd in grave, where to my friends best knowen;
Executors I will none make, thereby great stryfe may grow,
Because the goods that I shall leave wyll not pay all I owe.”
Will of James Bigsby
The following is a curious testamentary paper of a North Essex laborer, who resided at Manningtree, England:
“As I feel very queer my will I now make;
Write it down, Joseph Finch, and make no mistake.
I wish to leave all things fair and right, do you see,
And my relatives satisfy. Now, listen to me.
The first in my will is Lydia my wife,
Who to me proved a comfort three years of my life;
The second my poor aged mother I say,
With whom I have quarrelled on many a day,
For which I’ve been sorry, and also am still;
I wish to give her a place in my will.
The third that I mention is my dear little child;
When I think of her, Joseph, I feel almost wild.
Uncle Sam Bigsby, I must think of him too,
Peradventure he will say that I scarcely can do.
And poor Uncle Gregory, I must leave him a part,
If it is nothing else but the back of the cart.
And for you, my executor, I will do what I can,
For acting towards me like an honest young man.
“Now, to my wife I bequeath greater part of my store;
First thing is the bedstead before the front door;
The next is the chair standing by the fireside,
The fender and irons she cleaned with much pride.
I also bequeath to Lydia my wife
A box in the cupboard, a sword, a gun, and knife,
And the harmless old pistol without any lock,
Which no man can fire off, for ’tis minus a cock.
The cups and the saucers I leave her also,
And a book called ‘The History of Poor Little Mo,’
With the kettle, the boiler, and old frying-pan,
A shovel, a mud-scoop, a pail, and a pan.
And remember, I firmly declare my protest
That my poor aged mother shall have my oak chest
And the broken whip under it. Do you hear what I say?
Write all these things down without any delay.
And my dear little child, I must think of her too.
Friend Joseph, I am dying, what shall I do?
I give her my banyan, my cap, and my hose,
My big monkey-jacket, my shirt, and my shoes;
And to Uncle Sam Bigsby, I bequeath my high boots,
The pickaxe and mattock with which I stubbed roots.
And poor Uncle Gregory, with the whole of my heart,
I give for a bedstead the back of the cart.
And to you, my executor, last in my will,
I bequeath a few trifles to pay off your bill.
I give you my shot-belt, my dog, and my nets,
And the rest of my goods sell to pay off my debts.
“Joseph Finch, Executor.
“Dated February 4th, 1839.”
From Missouri
Under the spell of the Muse, Joseph Johnson Cassiday, a well-known farmer of Jasper County, Missouri, prepared his will in rhyme; for several years this document answered the purposes of the testator; just prior to his death, however, in March, 1910, more serious thoughts seem to have come over him, and Mr. Cassiday executed a different will, the last being done in the usual prose form. The will in rhyme is given below:
“I, Joseph Johnson Cassiday,
Being sound of mind and memory,
Do hereby publish my intent,
This my will and testament,
That all my just debts first be paid,
Expense for burial and funeral made,
And all expenses made of late,
Out of my personal and real estate.
I do bequeath, devise and give,
As long as she, my wife, shall live,
Lot six in the original town of Lever,
To her assigns and heirs forever.
To my adopted daughter Marie,
I do devise and give in fee,
The southeast quarter of section seven
Township nine and range eleven.
To my two sons Josephus and Reach,
I do devise one dollar each.
The residue of my estate,
I do bequeath to Mary Kate,
And I hereby appoint her for,
My last will, executor.
This eighteenth day of May was done,
In the year of our Lord, Nineteen One.”