(Type in “Robert Frost”)
Whose woods these are, I have no clue.
I should be in Kalamazoo;
I made a left instead of right
And saw Costco and a J. Crew.
My GPS must think it strange
That my cell phone is out of range.
I’m already late but I don’t care;
Once again, my plans will change.
I know that I’ve made a mistake.
I’ve passed two Sears, a Steak-n-Shake,
three Wal-Marts, and a Lowe’s or two,
A small bread shop that smelled of cake.
I drive and drive in my red Jeep.
I pass a farm and start to weep.
The only things I see are sheep.
The only things I see are sheep.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 1:11 AM UTC
(Type in “Robert Frost”)
Whose woods these are, I have no clue.
I should be in Kalamazoo;
I made a left instead of right
And saw Costco and a J. Crew.
My GPS must think it strange
That my cell phone is out of range.
I’m already late but I don’t care;
Once again, my plans will change.
I know that I’ve made a mistake.
I’ve passed two Sears, a Steak-n-Shake,
three Wal-Marts, and a Lowe’s or two,
A small bread shop that smelled of cake.
I drive and drive in my red Jeep.
I pass a farm and start to weep.
The only things I see are sheep.
The only things I see are sheep.
A friend of mine showed me an article in the New Yorker about a collection of poetry that used famous poems to poke fun of GPS devices, and I decided to write my own to the tune of "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.
