(With apologies to 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 bury a negro in the snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
There must be hundreds buried here.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
Just two more niggers on the heap
To lay beneath the downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
To do my part for mankind's sake.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
(With apologies to 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 bury a negro in the snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
There must be hundreds buried here.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
Just two more niggers on the heap
To lay beneath the downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
To do my part for mankind's sake.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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