Farewell, my wife and father dear; My glass is run, my work is done, And now my head lies quiet here. That many an engine I've set up, And got great praise from men, I made them work on British ground, And on the roaring seas; My engine's stopp'd, my valves are bad, And lie so deep within; No engineer could there be found To put me new ones in. But Jesus Christ converted me And took me up above, I hope once more to meet once more, And sing redeeming love. Our next is on a railway engineer, who died in 1840, and was buried in Bromsgrove churchyard:-- My engine now is cold and still, No water does my boiler fill; My coke affords its flame no more; My days of usefulness are o'er; My wheels deny their noted speed, No more my guiding hand they need; My whistle, too, has lost its tone, Its shrill and thrilling sounds are gone; My valves are now thrown open wide; My flanges all refuse to guide, My clacks also, though once so strong, Refuse to aid the busy throng: No more I feel each urging breath; My steam is now condensed in death. Life's railway o'er, each station's passed, In death I'm stopped, and rest at last. Farewell, dear friends, and cease to weep: In Christ I'm safe; in Him I sleep. The epitaph we next give is on the driver of the coach that ran between Aylesbury and London, by the Rev. H. Bullen, Vicar of Dunton, Bucks, in whose churchyard the man was buried:-- Parker, farewell! thy journey now is ended, Death has the whip-hand, and with dust is blended; Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust Thy last account may prove exact and just. When he who drives the chariot of the day, Where life is light, whose Word's the living way, Where travellers, like yourself, of every age, And every clime, have taken their last stage, The God of mercy, and the God of love, Show you the road to Paradise above! Lord Byron wrote on John Adams, carrier, of Southwell, Nottinghamshire, an epitaph as follows:-- John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell, A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well; He carried so much, and he carried so fast He could carry no more--so was carried at last; For the liquor he drank, being too much for one, He could not carry off--so he's now carri-on. On Hobson, the famous University carrier, the following lines were written:--