For those millions in Britain who continue to enjoy a house with no central heating

as God intended,

I offer the following as a helpful instruction (pinched from Lorraine):


A "Woodcutter's Song."

Oak logs will warm you well
That are old and dry
Logs of pine will sweetly smell,
But the sparks will fly
Birch logs will burn too fast,
Chestnut's scarce at all, sir
And hawthorn logs are known to last
That are cut down in the fall, sir

Surely you will find
There's none compare with the hardwood logs
That are cut in winter time, sir

Holly logs will burn like wax
You can burn them green
Elm logs burn like smoldering flax
With no flame to be seen
Beech logs for winter time,
Yew logs as well, sir
Green alder logs it is a crime
For any man to sell, sir

Surely you will find
There's none compare with the hardwood logs
That are cut in winter time, sir

Pear logs and apple logs,
They will scent your room
Cherry logs across the dogs
Smell like flowers in bloom
But ash logs, smooth and grey,
Buy them green or old, sir
And buy up all that come your way,
For they're worth their weight in gold, sir

Surely you will find
There's none compare with the hardwood logs
That are cut in winter time, sir