Just look at all the words which refer to a clock.

'Here lies in horizontal position the outside case
Of Thomas Routledge, watchmaker - whose
abilities in that line were an honour to his
profession. Integrity was the mainspring and
prudence the regulator of all the actions of his
life. Humane, generous and liberal, his hands
never stopped till he had relieved distress. So
nicely regulated were all his motions that he
never went wrong except when set a-going by
people who did not know his key. Even then he
was easily set right again. He had the art of
disposing his time so well that his hours glided
away in one continual round of pleasure and
delight until an unlucky minute put a period to his
existence. He departed this life, November 14th
1802. Aged 57. Wound up, in hopes of being
taken in hand by his maker - and being
thoroughly cleaned - repaired and set a-going in
the world to come'

The question may well be asked as to who composed all these words and verses inscribed on tombs of the 17th to 19th centuries. We know that poets like Gay, Pope and Young did write some but most of these rhymesters were amateur poets, schoolmasters, parsons and parish clerks perhaps trying to make a little extra money to supplement their incomes. Some may have come from some of the ballads of the day.

The parson would likely have been the best educated and the best suited to provide appropriate epitaphs.

Canon Bowles was the Vicar of Bremhill, near Colne in Wiltshire from 1805 until 1845, and he wrote many of the inscriptions seen in that district.

He even had small books of them printed which he distributed free to his parishioners. It is likely that the parsons wrote the more serious epitaphs and largely left the less grave ones to others.

The following epitaph for one Peter Insell, the Parish Clerk of St Paulinus in Crayford, Kent, may well have been the work of a parson or schoomaster. Insell died on the 31st March 1811 whilst on his way to church to assist at a wedding.

'The life of this clerk was just threescore and ten
Nearly half of which time he had sung out 'Amen'
In his youth he was married like other young men
But his wife died one day so he chanted 'Amen'
A second he took - she departed - so then
He married and buried a third with'Amen'
Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble but then
His voice was deep bass as he sang his 'Amen'
On the horn he could blow as well as most men
So his horn was exalted by blowing 'Amen'
But he lost all his wind after threescore and ten
And here with three wives he waits till again
The trumpet shall rouse him to sing out 'Amen'
In the churchyard at Edwalton we can read of a lady.
'She drank good port, good ale, good wine
And lived to the age of nnety-nine.'

This inscription to a grocer comes from Northern Ireland.

'Here lie the remains of John Hall, grocer
The world is not worth a fig
And I have good raisins for saying so'

But here's another for a parish clerk and it is seen at Warnham in Sussex. Michael Turner was a cobbler, parish clerk, sexton, choirmaster and an excellent fiddler.

In his old age the villagers gave him a cottage and made sure he was well looked after. He died clutching his violin.

His epitaph, like so many, is in the form of a poem and was written by the Lotd of the Manor.

'His duty done, beneath this stone
Old Michael lies at rest
His rustic rig, his song, his jig
Were ever of the best
With nodding head the choir he led
That none should start too soon
The second, too, he sung full true
His viol played the tune
And when at last his age had passed
One hundred less eleven
With faithful cling to fiddle string
He sang himself to heaven'
This epitaph also reminds us of the days before organs when church music was provided by stringed instruments.

For our last send off this week we make a quite local visit to Selby Abbey where we see a rather sombre epitaph for a one time sexton there.

'Near to this stone lies Arthur John
Late Sexton I ever
Who without tears for twenty years
Did carcasses inter
But death at last - for his works past
Unto him that day did say
Leave off thy trade - be not afraid
And forthwith come away
Without reply or asking why
The summons he obeyed
In fifteen hundred and sixty-four
Laid down his life and spade'

Next week in Part 10 - Memorials to Publicans.