The Why I Hate England and Book Burning Literary Festival

Septembered A September years ago that insists on my remembering Our tree lost a mighty branch us all dismembering Old trees will drop a branch giving them nutrients for tomorrow Sixteen years on and we're well nourished with the sorrow On a valley side a giant beech harbours him nestled in the bower Left when it lost its own huge branch  now side by side with ours Erik you are completely and lovingly  remembered But every year when it comes around I am utterly Septembered