Private Property

These trespassers annoy, you know?
Yes, I live in the village, so?
Why can't they stop elsewhere, not here
Why watch MY woods fill up with snow?

Don’t think of me a horse’s rear
There is no farmhouse, nowhere near
There’s truly nothing till the lake
And yet they stop here every year

It doesn’t seem like a fair shake
There must, there must be some mistake
Must I rely on wind to sweep
Signs of their presence, flake by flake

My woods are lovely, dark and deep
But it's My property to keep
And so I can't get any sleep
And so I can't get any sleep

Author notes: As I saw Robert Frost's poem scroll by in the classic pics, I couldn't resist.  Tried using exactly the same rhymes as much as possible -----------------------------------       ---------- The immortal Robert Frost classic: 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.