- Nov 5, 2011
- 45,653
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- United States
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- Faith
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Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Parody of Robert Frost's 'Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening'
"Walking past the garage on a summer weekend"
Garage Elite
Whose yard this is I think I know.
They let the grass just grow and grow.
They will not see me standing here-
The sidewalk is so deep and low.
Their lawnmower must think it queer
That they have some mowing fear.
And, so it lays so cold and still
With dreams of gas and grass so dear.
It's dreams include a grassy meal.
An appetite it has yet to fill.
A hunger for a green type treat
But as of yet those dreams aren't real.
Garage existences are indiscreet.
They're very orderly and neat.
They're organized in line and row-
The orderly, unused elite.
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Parody of Robert Frost's 'Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening'
"Walking past the garage on a summer weekend"
Garage Elite
Whose yard this is I think I know.
They let the grass just grow and grow.
They will not see me standing here-
The sidewalk is so deep and low.
Their lawnmower must think it queer
That they have some mowing fear.
And, so it lays so cold and still
With dreams of gas and grass so dear.
It's dreams include a grassy meal.
An appetite it has yet to fill.
A hunger for a green type treat
But as of yet those dreams aren't real.
Garage existences are indiscreet.
They're very orderly and neat.
They're organized in line and row-
The orderly, unused elite.
