She calls it

Cheer From The Church Yard

As I lie stretched out by my “Better-half,”
Please give me a cheerful epitaph!
Won’t have to jump, won’t have to run,
Won’t have to hurry to get things done!
Won’t even bother with a clock.
Won’t have to hunt for the other sock!
Won’t hear the baby, or rooster call,
Just sleep on, ‘spite of all.
Won’t mind the sun shining bright,
Or morning mist, prolonging night;
Just sleep on, as a book we close
When the end has come, as The Reader knows.
If life is a mystery, this is plain:
Asleep in Jesus, rest is gain.
And hearing my name, I’ll rise with ease
With a grace unknown before decease.
So, as I lie stretched out by Better-half,
Give me a cheerful epitaph.