It sounded immediately familiar, I felt sure I had known it as a child.
The With Great Pleasure web page calls it an unattributed poem, but I found this claim about its authorship via Google: “This poem was written by my grandmother -- Honor Goodhart -- during the 1926 coal strike in England. It was originally published in Punch in 1926, and has been variously reprinted since then.”
Interesting that it should be on something called Gladstonefamily.net, given the way William Gladstone loved chopping logs.
A good poem for putative arsonists too.
Logs to burn
Logs to burn; logs to burn;
Logs to save the coal a turn.
Here's a word to make you wise
when you hear the woodman's cries;
Never heed his usual tale
That he's splendid logs for sale
But read these lines & really learn
The proper kind of logs to burn.
Oak logs will warm you well,
If they're old and dry.
Larch logs of pinewoods smell
But the sparks will fly.
Beech logs for Christmas time;
Yew logs heat well;
'Scotch' logs it is a crime
For anyone to sell.
Birch logs will burn too fast;
Chestnut scarce at all;
Hawthorn logs are good to last
If cut in the fall.
Holly logs will burn like wax,
You should burn them green;
Elm logs like smouldering flax,
No flame to be seen.
Pear logs and apple logs,
They will scent your room;
Cherry logs across the dogs
Smell like flowers in bloom,
But ash logs all smooth and grey
Burn them green or old,
Buy up all that come your way
They're worth their weight in gold.
Logs to save the coal a turn.
Here's a word to make you wise
when you hear the woodman's cries;
Never heed his usual tale
That he's splendid logs for sale
But read these lines & really learn
The proper kind of logs to burn.
Oak logs will warm you well,
If they're old and dry.
Larch logs of pinewoods smell
But the sparks will fly.
Beech logs for Christmas time;
Yew logs heat well;
'Scotch' logs it is a crime
For anyone to sell.
Birch logs will burn too fast;
Chestnut scarce at all;
Hawthorn logs are good to last
If cut in the fall.
Holly logs will burn like wax,
You should burn them green;
Elm logs like smouldering flax,
No flame to be seen.
Pear logs and apple logs,
They will scent your room;
Cherry logs across the dogs
Smell like flowers in bloom,
But ash logs all smooth and grey
Burn them green or old,
Buy up all that come your way
They're worth their weight in gold.
