“Stopping by the Woods to Poop on a Summer’s Eve” by R. Frost
I stopped by the woods on a warm summers eve,
By a mending wall drenched in sun.
And deep in my bowels, from odours so foul,
Twas time that I baked a fresh bun.
I dismounted my horse, a brown one of course,
And waddled off into the trees.
Made a chair of a log near a treacherous bog,
Where the water was up to my knees.
My horse raised a brow when I dropped trow,
But his face was a grim as a statue.
“I know it’s a sin”, I said with a grin,
“But you poop when I’m looking at you!”.
And so, by the woods by the summer sunset,
I pinched off a pretty good load.
My shame turned too quick to a laugh of regret,
When my poop was received by a toad.
I dusted him off with nary a scoff,
For the amphibian oh-so-surprised.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, he returned to the water,
And revisited poopy demise.
“I pooped on you toad! I pooped on your head!”
I called to the skies like a bard.
And I gathered my pants , as I watched where I tread,
“That toad is a fucking retard!”.
But a toad full of vengeance is a toad full of hate,
And his heart was as cold as his blood.
He must have spent hours devising a plan,
To summon revenge from the mud.
As I slept that same night, in an innocent state,
The toad had arrived by my house.
He snuck onto the window, bran muffin in hand,
Which he’d eaten, as mute as a mouse.
Then he downed four espressos and a gingerbread cake
And he raised his stub-tail to the moon.
“Never crap on a toad!” he screamed with delight,
As he splatter shat throughout the room.
I awoke in a horror I’d never live down,
As reality leaked down my face.
No fathoms of bleach or cleansers could reach,
The worst of the stains in this place.
I turned to the toad first in rage, then I stopped,
And I gazed at my adversary.
“What I do unto others, you marvelous toad,
Is precisely what you did to me”.
With a glint in his eyes and a shine in his heart
He said “now, I truly do see ya”.
With a delicate hop from the window, he dropped,
I was left to clean his diarrhea.
It was many long years till I saw him again,
Now we smile and lock eyes when we pass.
For we both know the truth about who pooped on who,
And toads have the worst smelling gas.
