Robert Frost’s Ghost Laments
Whose pols these are I think I know.
They’re swarming thru the village though;
They do not want me stopping here
Instead of at their silly show.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a pollster near,
To ask him one more time today
Which one he favors for this year.
He gives his harness bells a SNAP,
To see the woods fill up with CRAP.
Godawful noise across the land
From blowhard Chump & Bushie Clap
It fills New Hampshire, dark and deep
With empty vows that they won’t keep.
There’s still a week before I sleep,
A long, damn week til I can sleep.
From Wikipedia: Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in America. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech. His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of the twentieth century, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry. He became one of America’s rare “public literary figures, almost an artistic institution.” He was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 1960 for his poetical works