Читать книгу Rebel Verses - Gilbert Bernard - Страница 3

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'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.

I say it!

Dost hear me … Thou?

There aint no God!