There Aint no God

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.