Ever walked through one?
Sometimes you find some queer epitaphs on the old stones.
I read one that told about the virtues of three husbands a certain woman
had.
And the monument had evidently been touched up several times, as
occasion required.
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This gave me a suggestion which I later carried out in the shape of a
little song, and if you will permit me, I'll sing it to you now. Keep
your seats, there's no extra charge.
The orchestra will please play, softly, the "Dead March of Saul." My
song is entitled "The Overworked Monument."
She followed him unto his grave
And reared a marble rare,
And chiseled on this sentence sweet,
"My grief I cannot bear."
She mourned a year and then she wed,
And they chiseled on that stone
A single word, and now it reads,
"My grief I cannot bear--alone."
But soon she wore her weeds again,
And they turned that stone about;
And on it traced this touching line,
"My life's light has gone out."
Not long she walked in darkness lone
Around that marble patch,
The bells rang out, the sculptor wrote,
"I've struck another match."
She's happy now with number four,
But all the neighbors say
That she will be a busy girl
On Resurrection Day.
Some people are very partial to the bang-tails.
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There's Cribber, for example, has become quite infatuated over the
races, and loses no opportunity of going when the season is on.
He stoutly maintains that it is just his Kentucky love for the
magnificent thoroughbreds that lures him there.
And being a confiding sort of a fellow myself I actually believed this
song and dance for a time.