The epitaph which follows for the blacksmith is believed to have been composed by the poet, Hayley, and it can be seen in many cemeteries including Bourne in Lincolnshire, Old Malton, Rochdale, Feltham, Bothwell and Westham.
'My sledge and hammer lay reclined
My bellows too have lost their wind
My fire's extinct, my forge decayed
And in the dust my vice is laid
My coal is spent, my iron's gone
My nails are drove, my work is done
My fire dried corpse lies here at rest
My soul like smoke, is soaring to the blest'

This send off celebrates the work of a potter at Chester.
'Here in the grave lies Catherine Gray
Changed to a senseless lump of clay
By earth and clay she got her pelf
And now she's turned to clay herself
You weeping friends, let me advise
Abate those tears and dry your eyes
Who knows, but in the course of years
In some tall pitcher or brown pan
She in her shop may be again'

Our next inscription for a printer can be seen at Bury-St-Edmunds.
'Here lies the remains of L. Gedge, Printer
Like a worn our character
He has returned to the founder
Hoping that he will be recast
In a better and more perfect mould'

Mary Atkinson, a Brighton Fish Seller died on the 1st January 1786 and had this epitaph.
'Periwinkles! Periwinkles! was ever her cry
She laboured to live, poor and honest to die
At the last day
How her old eyes will twinkle
For no more will she cry
Periwinkle! Periwinkle!'

Years ago many of our churches and chapels needed organ blowers and the organ blower at the Isle's Belton Methodist Chapel in 1905 was paid just £1 a year for his services and some 27 years later this pay had only risen to £1/5 shillings! There are lots of very amusing tales about those old organ blowers.
Actually, as late as the early 1950s, I just once did the organ blowing at Cliff College MethodistCollege where I was doing a Diploma Course.
It is not surprising then to see this epitaph to an organ blower at Llanfylanwthyl in Wales.
'Under this stone lies Meredith Morgan
Who blew the bellows of our church organ
Tobacco he hated, to smoke most unwilling
Yet never so pleased as when pipes he was filling
No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast
Though he gave our old organ many a blast
No puffer was he, though a capital blower
He could blow Double C and now lies a note lower'

I cannot say where these following words came from
'Here lies window cleaner Marcus Burke
Who alas stepped back to admire his work'

This one is typical of Welsh humour.
'Wherever you be let your wind go free
For keeping it in was the death of Bryn'

When Theodore Myer died in New Jersey, USA, his widow had his headstone engraved with this inscription.
'The light of my life has gone out'
When she re-married she added
'I just found anothert match'

I will end this week with a rather 'steamy' epitaph from Batley in Yorkshire. It is on the grave of Joseph Newsome, a 19th century engine driver.
'My engine is now cold and still
No water does my boiler fill
My coal affords its flame no more
My days of usefulness are o'er
My wheels deny their noted speed
No more my guiding hand they heed
My valves are now thrown open wide
My flanges all refuse to slide
My clackes, alas though once so strong
Refuse their aid in the busy throng
No more I feel each urging breath
My steam is now condensed in death'
Next Week in Part 9 - The Faithful Parish Clerk