Frosty, I can't help it.   It's ash after all.

Thomas,  if I understand your reference correctly,  you'll clean up with that pun.

I went down the road and picked up a oak stump from that tree that blew over, I was gonna cut a bigger chunk off but the base of that dude was a lot bigger than I thought, it was so wide that it would swallow my 225 pw! You would have to reach way over to work on the anvil so I opted for a smaller 20” chunk instead lol, 

An as normal the shop cats got involved, sometimes I wonder who really runs this place 

You serve cats and have to wonder? 

You lost me Thomas, should I read TWB further?

Frosty The Lucky.

Wouldn't help; UK usage, charlady: a cleaning woman especially in a large building.

Didn't want to mislabel Chad so I used Char-Laddie from the scots usage.

Char-lady-laddie-ed describes Doc's whole crew after an experiment. Sometimes the large building and surrounding neighborhood too. 

Frosty The Lucky.

TW looks like it'll work! Nice PW too!

Thanks Longbow!
Hopefully the shop cats will find it in their hearts to let me use it sometime lol, 

On 9/23/2021 at 9:48 AM, JHCC said:

Beechwood fires are bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year,
Chestnut's only good they say,
If for logs 'tis laid away.
Make a fire of Elder tree,
Death within your house will be;
But ash new or ash old,
Is fit for a queen with crown of gold

Birch and fir logs burn too fast
Blaze up bright and do not last,
it is by the Irish said
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread.
Elm wood burns like churchyard mould,
E'en the very flames are cold
But ash green or ash brown
Is fit for a queen with golden crown

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke,
Apple wood will scent your room
Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom
Oaken logs, if dry and old
keep away the winter's cold
But ash wet or ash dry
a king shall warm his slippers by.

-- Lady Celia Congreve

I'm gonna try to memorize that poem! I like it, and seems true and useful! 

On 9/23/2021 at 9:07 AM, JHCC said:

Give Lady Celia a break: I don't think they have hickory or bowdock in England!

Lol, i forgot about this thread,

I don’t know that I agree with her firewood wood choices but I do agree with Deli that it’s a very nice poem! Thank you for sharing! 

This reminds me of another poem you told me earlier this year, about a blacksmith working under a tree… sorry I forgot what it was called 

“The Village Blacksmith“ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
     ⁠The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
     With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arms
     Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
     His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
     He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
     For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
     You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
     With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
     When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
     Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
     And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
     Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
     And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
     He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,
     And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice
     Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
     How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
     A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
     Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
     Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
     Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
     For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
     Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
     Each burning deed and thought.

That’s the one! 

It's the one we quote to point out to people that in these parts the "Smithy" is the building and the "Smith" is the person!  (Like calling a mechanic a "garage"!)