Robert frost Lyrics

Robert Frost did write in settings beautiful and rustic

He wrote of rolling hills and green terrain

While poor me I must do my writing in the chaos of the city

Sometimes even on a subway train

How am I to ever learn about the woodlands

And the falling leaves of autumn and such things sublime

When I must spend all of my life truckin' round this filthy city

Doing what I can to earn a dime?



How did Robert Frost make payments on that little country place of his

Where did he get the dough?

Could he go down to the country store and sell a poem saying

"Here's a nice one I wrote 'bout the snow?"

Surely now he must have had a sponsor of some sort

Perhaps a lady friend who simply rolled in bread

A lady friend to say "now, Bob why don't you take a long, long walk and

Write whatever pops into your head, head, head."



She say "Bobby, don't you worry 'bout the mortgage

Bobby, don't you worry 'bout the bills

Bobby, why don't you go write a poem 'bout the fences

'Bout the neighbors, and about the rolling hills

Bobby, don't you worry 'bout the dishes, no, no, no, no

Bobby, don't you worry 'bout the pans

Bobby, now it is not good that an artist like yourself

Should be walking 'round with dishpan hands."



So you see old Bob was free to follow through his fancies

Wander through the woods behind the muse

Boy, if I had me a sponsor, I could follow through my fancies

Just to be in Bobby's shoes

Boy, if I had Bobby's life, I could be a hero

Go and find my fortune and my fame

Only thing is, I hear from people who have found it

That everything in life stays much the same, same, same

Just the same

Just the same