whosewoodstheseareIthinkIknowhishouseisinthevillagethoughhewillnotseeme stoppingheretowatchhiswoodsfillupwithsnowmylittlehorsemustthinkitqueertostopwithoutafarmhousenearbetweenthewoodsandfrozenlakethedarkesteveningoftheyearhegiveshisharnessbellsashaketoaskifthereissomemistaketheonlyothersound'sthesweepofeasywindanddownyflakethewoodsarelovelydarkanddeepbutIhavepromisestokeepandmilestogobeforeIsleepandmilestogobeforeIsleep
