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270. From Peterchurch:—

Sickness was my portion,
Physic was my food,
Groans was my devotion,
Drugs did me no good.
The Lord took pity on me,
Because He thought it best—
He took me to his bosom,
And here I lies at rest.

271. From Michaelchurch:—

John Prosser is my name, and England is my nation,
Bowchurch is my dwelling-place, and Christ is my salvation;
Now I’m dead and in my grave, and all my bones are rotten:
As you pass by remember me, when I am quite forgotten

271a. From Hatfield Churchyard, Herts:—

The world’s a city full of crooked streets;
And death the market-place where all men meet;
If death were merchandise, then men could buy:
The rich would always live, the poor must die.

272. From Dartford Churchyard, Kent:—

We all must die, we know full well,
But when or where no one can tell;
Strive, therefore, to live godly still,
Then welcome death, come when it will.
—A Pedestrian.

273. From St. John’s Churchyard, Horsleydown. On Captain
__________, who was drowned at Gravesend:—