Originally Posted by
Hawkman
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Though why it was yellow was not understood.
Were all the trees cowards, afraid of the axe,
That could smite them to lumber for putting in sacks,
Or was it disease that affected the trees,
Infected by X-file type, modified bees?
The answer, I felt, lay down one of the paths,
One strewn with stones and the other with laths.
The mystery now I just had to unravel,
So I followed the one that was covered with gravel.
The custard wood lured me deeper within
And I wished that a priest could have shriven my sin.
But at last, in a clearing, the answer I found,
It was obvious now that I looked all around,
At the top of a ladder, quite close to a tree,
A man with a spray-gun was looking at me.
He pointed his weapon and right then I fainted
And found when I woke, that I too, had been painted.