Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger, now I grow and linger. Upwards the tower I go, blossoming and blooming until a hundred years later, there comes her beau.

A sticky tar sap. Needled skirt up to cap. Boarded in bulk. Shape hung: travels map.

It can fill a play Or an arm protect Do it to catch a fish in a bay Or a shadow project

Ring me up every time you enter my house for without me you surely will be stuck about

Winter's fingers creeping down to tap, tap, tap at the walls, the windows from the eaves of your roof. In the cold night, they can certainly look intimidating, but not so much during the day. The sun makes them so nervous, they break into a cold sweat!