whosewoodstheseareIthinkIknowhishouseisinthevillagethoughhewillnotseeme stoppingheretowatchhiswoodsfillupwithsnowmylittlehorsemustthinkitqueertostopwithoutafarmhousenearbetweenthewoodsandfrozenlakethedarkesteveningoftheyearhegiveshisharnessbellsashaketoaskifthereissomemistaketheonlyothersound'sthesweepofeasywindanddownyflakethewoodsarelovelydarkanddeepbutIhavepromisestokeepandmilestogobeforeIsleepandmilestogobeforeIsleep