timber

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in 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.

As I walked through the forest, the forest made of people.
Someone was chopping it down and the trees fell without a cry.

His axe broke the silence, and the birds left their nests,
and somewhere I heard a bell. The time had come to confess.

Chorus:
Timber! Here we go again.
Timber! It's a very cruel game.
(x2)

The leaves covered the earth...
the forest was desolarted.
As they walked through the forest...
that had nothing more to say (x3).