Epitaphs

I stumbled on some funny grave markers from a book I was reading:

Here lies Les Moore, shot four times with a forty-four
No Les, No Moore.

Anna Wallace
The children of Israel wanted bread;
The Lord sent them manna.
Old Clerk Wallace wanted a wife;
The devil sent him Anna.

Sacred to the memory of my husband,
John Barnes, who died Jan. 3, 1803.
His comely young widow, aged 23, has
Many qualifications of a good wife
And yearns to be comforted.

Here lies Butch - we planted him raw -
He was quick on the trigger
But slow on the draw.

Beneath this sod, a lump of clay,
Lies Arabella Young,
Who, on the twenty-fourth of May
Began to hold her tongue.

Something tells me that they had more of asense of humour about death back in the day!