We all want to be remembered after death, but I'm sure most of us do not want to be remembered as the people who had taken the actual epitaphs on their tombs:
1. Here is where Johnny yeast. Forgive me for not rising.
Two. This is where Butch. We planted the crude. He was quick on the trigger, But slow on the draw.
Three. The children of Israel wanted bread, And the Lord sent them manna. Former Secretary Wallace wanted a wife, and the Devil sent him Anna.
April. She always said her feet were killing her but nobody believes him.
May. Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was in the background. It was.
June. Here lies the body of our Anna. Done to death by a banana. It was not the fruit that supported the floor, but the skin of what makes it go.
July. Here there is a forest, surrounded by woods. A timber within the other. The outer wood is very good: we can not say another.
