There's a legend that over the years, slid doon(?) from the heather-covered highlands to the
miserable-weathered country across the wall that Hadrian once peed against.
It speaks of a enigmatic skill of utensil carving and cutlery fashioning.
It's been said that this secretive coven of people that whittle and hew in the wee-small hours
list among the famous and common, and yet none know their names.
One can mull on what wondrous tales those wooden shavings could tell and what revelations
lay among the chippings. Like Merlin's wand and Moses' staff, the life in the timber needs to
released and only the select know the magic spell.
It's a fork next, Gordi... your progress up the stairs of succession continues.
miserable-weathered country across the wall that Hadrian once peed against.
It speaks of a enigmatic skill of utensil carving and cutlery fashioning.
It's been said that this secretive coven of people that whittle and hew in the wee-small hours
list among the famous and common, and yet none know their names.
One can mull on what wondrous tales those wooden shavings could tell and what revelations
lay among the chippings. Like Merlin's wand and Moses' staff, the life in the timber needs to
released and only the select know the magic spell.
It's a fork next, Gordi... your progress up the stairs of succession continues.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.