An olde poem about burning wood – For world poetry day.
Beech-wood fires burn bright and clear If the logs are kept a year;
Store your beech for Christmastide With new-cut holly laid beside;
Chestnut’s only good, they say, If for years ’tis stored away;
Birch and fir-wood burn too fast Blaze too bright and do not last;
Flames from larch will shoot up high, Dangerously the sparks will fly;
But ash-wood green and ash-wood brown Are fit for a Queen with a golden crown.
Oaken logs, if dry and old, Keep away the winter’s cold;
Poplar gives a bitter smoke, Fills your eyes and makes you choke;
Elm-wood burns like churchyard mould, E’en the very flames are cold;
It is by the Irish said; Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread,
Apple-wood will scent the room, Pear-wood smells like flowers in bloom;
But ash-wood wet and ash-wood dry A King may warm his slippers by.