She drank good ale, strong punch and wine,
And lived to the age of ninety-nine.
A gravestone in Darneth Churchyard, near Dartford, bears the following epitaph:—
Oh, the liquor he did love, but never will no more,
For what he lov’d did turn his foe:
For on the 28th of January 1741, that fatal day,
The Debt he owed he then did pay.
At Chatham, on a drunkard, good advice is given:—
Weep not for him, the warmest tear that’s shed
Falls unavailing o’er the unconscious dead;
Take the advice these friendly lines would give,
Live not to drink, but only drink to live.
From Tonbridge churchyard we glean the following:—
Hail!
This stone marks the spot
Where a notorious sot
Doth lie;
Whether at rest or not
It matters not
To you or I.
Oft to the “Lion” he went to fill his horn.
Now to the “Grave” he’s gone to get it warm.
Beered by public subscription by his hale and stout companions, who deeply lament his absence.
On a gravestone in the churchyard of Eton, placed to the memory of an innkeeper, it is stated:—
Life’s an inn; my house will shew it:
I thought so once, but now I know it.
Man’s life is but a winter’s day;
Some only breakfast and away;
Others to dinner stop, and are full fed;
The oldest man but sups and then to bed:
Large is his debt who lingers out the day;
He who goes soonest has the least to pay.