I just stumbled across this little guy in the April 25, 1807 edition of the Portsmouth Oracle.

Epitaph

Sent as a hint to water drinkers
Here lies Ned Rand, who on a sudden
Left off roast beef, for hasty pudding
Forsook old stingo, mild and stale,
And every drink for Adam's ale;
'Till flesh and blood, reduced to batter
Consisting of mere flour and water,
Which wanting salt to keep out must,
And heat to bake it to a crust,
Moulder'd and crumbled into dust.