File1, 2, & 3 for samjad:



Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse 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.


I cannot see
I cannot pee
I cannot chew

Oh, my God, what can I do?
My memory shrinks
My memory stinks
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bad--can you tell?
My body's drooping
Have trouble pooping
The Golden Years have ocme at last
The Golden Years can kiss my ---


A day or two ago
I thought I'd take a ride
And soon, Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side,
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot
He got into a drifted bank
And then we got upsot.

Now the ground is the white
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls tonight
and sing this sleighing song;
Just get a bobtailed bay

No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...