Designed and written by ourselves
I likes to be left alone. The axe I hate and not easy split am I. If kings and realms need defense, a longbow I will spare you ; though more reluctantly than that old lapdog Yew. On the hearth, I burns like churchyard mould – even my very flames are cold. I doesn’t mind the wet so’s they use me for ships’ keels and the gates of locks. But most likely, you will know me longest when your eyes are closed – it’s me that’s first choice for a coffin. Sometimes I’ll fill the coffin meself; that’s why they’s call me “the widow maker”. You heard them? Sometimes, when the mood’s upon me, I might drop a branch. Crack! Like a spoon upon an egg.