Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Donald J. Trump
>I have a pretty good idea whose woods these are, believe me.
>And let me tell you something, my people say he’s a complete nobody.
>This guy lives in the village. So what if he sees me stopping here?
>I dare him to sue me! I dare him!
>And by the way, this snow is pathetic.
>These are by far, the least downy flakes ever!
>I hear they had to import them from Canada.
>I don’t know. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. We’re looking into it.
>My horse – he’s the most incredible horse, seriously,
>I have the greatest, the classiest horses –
>My horse doesn’t even know what the hell we’re doing here.
>The horses love me though. They do.
>They’re always shaking their bells at me, it’s very loving.
>It’s a beautiful thing.
>Let me tell you something, these woods are an embarrassment.
>They’re not dark. They’re not deep. They’re nothing. They’re for losers.
>And I cannot wait to sue this guy.
>I cannot wait to sue this guy.
http://rottingpost.com/2016/03/25/stopping-by-the-woods-on-a-snowy-evening-by-donald-j-trump/
>>70267569
I was totally a Trump supporter until I read this poem. Now I'm having a #Ryangasm and #Kumming4Kasich
>We're going to take a poem and put it into words we(who hate anyone who dares think differently than us) think Trump would say. This will stop his campaign some how.
>>70268022
how much do you get paid for damage control post?
>>70268215
1 (you) from you probably
>>70267569
Damn that cottage looks comfy, just need fireplace and more snow to wall you there for the winter
>>70267813
>>70268022
This is serious literature and your attempts to derail the thread and prevent it from receiving its proper accolades are not appreciated, cruzniggers
>>70268289
>Paid in (You)s
Sounds like a pretty sweet gig.
this is the actual poem by Donald Trump
>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 pony 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.
>>70268482
Isn't that a Robert Frost poem?
>>70268764
yeah
>>70268764
Pretty breezy in here
I read that in his voice
