David Hoyle

Shtupping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frostberg

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, yo;
He will not see us stopping here
To grope each other high and low.

My shiksa date might think me queer
If I don’t get my shvanz in gear
That’s why Viagra I did take
The hardest evening of the year.

She gives her bleached-blond head a shake
And then she does a double-take.
When at long last she takes a peek
At Robert Frostberg’s trouser snake.

Her hands so cold, I almost weep.
But I have promises to keep,
And a shiksa to shtup before I sleep,
And a shiksa to shtup before I sleep.

Barfing in Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost Heave

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, bro;
He will not see me stopping here
To toss my cookies in the snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To mix burritos with cheap beer
Between the woods and frozen lake
I think that I shall vomit here.

He gives his harness bells a shake
My stomach it begins to quake.
The only other sound’s down deep
The retching sounds I start to make.

The woods are lovely, dark, with snow.
But I have massive chunks to blow,
And gallons to spew before I sleep,
And gallons to spew before I sleep.