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Alps for Wordsworth
I just read the funniest little excerpt from a hoogely long Wordsworth poem. It went something like this.
Romantic Poets: Yo, anybody who wants to be in the Romantic Poet Club has to go to the Alps. It's sublime, man. Everybody's doing it.
Wordsworth: Hey, I'm a poet! I think I'll go to the Alps too!
Wordsworth: *be's a good dooby poet and goes to Italy, hooks up with some other travelers, stays at an inn*
Wordsworth: Yay, gonna cross the Alps today! Here we go! Doot de doo... *walks*
Wordsworth: *walks* Man, some of these paths are a little steep and rocky. Oh well. Oop, dip in the path. There, it goes back up again. Yep. Wonder when I'm going to get to the Alps. Hey, Peasant Boy! Could you point me in the direction of the Most Sublime Alps, please?
Peasant: You just crossed 'em.
Wordsworth: !!!!
Wordsworth: *goes and writes a poem about his feeling of anticlimax*
Bweehee.
Romantic Poets: Yo, anybody who wants to be in the Romantic Poet Club has to go to the Alps. It's sublime, man. Everybody's doing it.
Wordsworth: Hey, I'm a poet! I think I'll go to the Alps too!
Wordsworth: *be's a good dooby poet and goes to Italy, hooks up with some other travelers, stays at an inn*
Wordsworth: Yay, gonna cross the Alps today! Here we go! Doot de doo... *walks*
Wordsworth: *walks* Man, some of these paths are a little steep and rocky. Oh well. Oop, dip in the path. There, it goes back up again. Yep. Wonder when I'm going to get to the Alps. Hey, Peasant Boy! Could you point me in the direction of the Most Sublime Alps, please?
Peasant: You just crossed 'em.
Wordsworth: !!!!
Wordsworth: *goes and writes a poem about his feeling of anticlimax*
Bweehee.