English poem
There Aint no God
by Bernard Gilbert (1882–1927)
There aint no God! Coz if there were — My boy what's under foreign sod Would be alive, and here: Instead of which young William Porter What never listed when he orter — Has his farm; And braunges yonder safe away from harm.
Poor lad!— he went — I can n't forgit that night — While Porter laughed him outer sight; Now — he is spent: Porter's all right.
What does he care? He's thinking of another farm, Instead of laying in some ditch He's rich! And folk'll gallop at his nod.