What was to be, we used to say, would be, and couldn't be prewented,
Which 'twas consolin' for to think, and made one happy and contented.
What would be we should live to see, if we lived long enough, 'twas certain,
And p'raps it might a mercy be the future was behind the curtain.
Misfortunes came, as come they must, in this here wale of trile and sorrow.
But then, if bad news come to-day, no news was like to come to-morrow.
No news was good news people said, and hoped meanwhile they might be better,
Leastways until the next day's post brought 'em a paper or a letter.
'Tis true, relief as soon may come, sometimes, by artificial light'nin'.
When days and weeks of dark and storm you've undergone afore the bright'nin':