* * * * *

McAllister, of talents rich and rare,
  Lies at this spot at finish of his race. 
Alike to him if it is here or there: 
  The one spot that he cared for was the ace.

* * * * *

Here lies Joseph Redding, who gave us the catfish. 
He dined upon every fish except that fish. 
’Twas touching to hear him expounding his fad
With a heart full of zeal and a mouth full of shad. 
The catfish miaowed with unspeakable woe
When Death, the lone fisherman, landed their Jo.

* * * * *

Judge Sawyer, whom in vain the people tried To push from power, here is laid aside.  Death only from the bench could ever start The sluggish load of his immortal part.

* * * * *

John Irish went, one luckless day,
To loaf and fish at San Jose. 
He got no loaf, he got no fish: 
They brained him with an empty dish! 
They laid him in this place asleep—­
O come, ye crocodiles, and weep.

* * * * *

In Sacramento City here
This wooden monument we rear
In memory of Dr. May,
Whose smile even Death could not allay. 
He’s buried, Heaven alone knows where,
And only the hyenas care;
This May-pole merely marks the spot
Where, ere the wretch began to rot,
Fame’s trumpet, with its brazen bray,
Bawled; “Who (and why) was Dr. May?”

* * * * *

Dennis Spencer’s mortal coil
Here is laid away to spoil—­
Great riparian, who said
Not a stream should leave its bed. 
Now his soul would like a river
Turned upon its parching liver.

* * * * *

For those this mausoleum is erected
Who Stanford to the Upper House elected. 
Their luck is less or their promotion slower,
For, dead, they were elected to the Lower.

* * * * *

Beneath this stone lies Reuben Lloyd,
Of breath deprived, of sense devoid. 
The Templars’ Captain-General, he
So formidable seemed to be,
That had he not been on his back
Death ne’er had ventured to attack.

* * * * *

Here lies Barnes in all his glory—­
Master he of oratOry. 
When he died the people weeping,
(For they thought him only sleeping)
Cried:  “Although he now is quiet
And his tongue is not a riot,
Soon, the spell that binds him breaking,
He a motion will be making. 
Then, alas, he’ll rise and speak
In support of it a week.”

* * * * *

Rash mortal! stay thy feet and look around—­
This vacant tomb as yet is holy ground;
But soon, alas!  Jim Fair will occupy
These premises—­then, holiness, good-bye!

* * * * *