“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 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.