Simon's fellow treemen called him Simon the Patient. Nothing could disturb him - he radiated that kind of relaxed apathy, that you'll normally find among lizards basking in the sun on warm rocks.
His everlasting patience came to an end the day he met the halfling Lewis Carrot who during his walk in the woods chanted his new poem:

<b>Solitude</b>
Just now the lilac is in bloom,
and I hate to walk in the gloom,
because my mother makes me use the broom,
to clean up my room,
and that is not funny!

Lewis Carrot was never seen again, and Simon was from that day known as Simon the Censor.
Together with <a href="http://fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=player&player_id=1659451">Curt the Critic</a> Simon now forms the wooden backbone of The Wood Food Poetry Book Team. He hopes, that the publishing of The Wood Food Poetry Book will put an end to the halflings' horrible attempts at doing romantic poetry.

Curt the Critic is the indirect cause of the forming of The Wood Food Poetry Book Team. He is the one who killed the halfling Show Arrow thus making <a href="http://fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=player&player_id=1659469">Shake Spear</a> wonder, if there were more important things in life than bashing and killing.

Curt is known as a very hard critic who usually shows his dislike of the halflings' poetry by seriously injuring the poets. As far as the halflings of the Wood Food Poetry Village know, he likes only one poem:

<b>Wisdom</b>
Grow in peace,
learn from the trees.

Together with <a href="http://fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=player&player_id=1659450">Simon the Censor</a> Curt now forms the wooden backbone of the Wood Food Poetry Book Team. He usually roams the line of scrimmage daring the opposition to utter any kind of rhyming sentences.

Former warboss and leader of the MTW program (Master of Tribal Warfare) in the halfling settlement now known as the Wood Food Poetry Village.

Shake Spear has decided to keep his former warrior name just to secure, that all halflings remember that he's the boss.

Spends most of his time polishing his old collection of skulls and writing poems about balconys and maidens.

Shake Spear's favourite home-made poem:

<b>Sonet nr. 18</b>
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day,
shall I see a bee in the yellow hay?
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
oh yay, I'm making my own ca-
ke today!

Boris' favourite home-made poem:

<b>Twin in the clouds</b>
Oh twins in the cloud
thou art so strong and proud.
In fear of getting thinner
I always long for dinner,
and that's what make me so stout.

Qousimado's favourite home-made poem:

<b>Acque e terre</b>
Water and earth
created the woods.
Food and song and a lot of trashing
created the halflings.
We are the merry people,
that live
in the woods
in great
harmony
and
joy
!

Charles is gardener of the village, and he just <i>hates</i> to weed.

Charles' favourite home-made poem:

<b>Le fleurs du mal</b>
The flowers of evil,
great fountains of pain,
they come from the devil;
I use Round-Up in vain.
O Thistle, o Plantain, o Dandelion of Doom
I forsake thee, I hate thee,
I prefer mushroom.

William is <a href="http://fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=player&player_id=1659536">W. B. Yeast</a>'s brother, and together they have created this famous poem about cake. Halflings all over the world know the lines and use them regularly when facing the difficult task of baking a <i>real</i> pepper cake.

<b>Song of Innocence in the Seven Woods</b>
When a spinster is about to bake
a real pepper cake,
she first grabs a mighty cauldron
and approximately two pounds of butter,
and if the cauldron doesn't overturn
and the butter doesn't burn
she then mixes it with two pounds of sugar
and a teaspoonful - not a ton -
of some wonderful cinnamon!

And in the sugar and butter
she'll put 6 yolks and mutter
while she stirs and pours
two pounds of snowwhite flour.
Now the worst is over,
and she seasons the paste
with a little bit of pepper,
now the cake can't be better!

Servants got her name because she continued to be cruel to the halflings' slaves after Shake Spear decided to cease the destroying and rename the Wood Food Poetry Village. The slaves were set free, but Servants hunted some of them down and brought them home in pieces. Her punishment is, that she know has to carry out all the former duties of the slaves, including scraping the toilets with a fork and cleaning the place of sacrifice with a little yellow sponge.
As a result hereof her favourite home-made poems are rather rancorous. Here is an example:

<b>From the Cables of Genocide</b>
I sleep
I dream
I live in a world where amoebae are no more
I hunt the flesh
I kill the living
I feed
I wake up
I gain the power
to take a shower
and the living irritate me even more.

John Kites is the crazy inventor and incurable romantic of the Wood Food Poetry Village. All his life he has dreamed about building an aircraft in some form, but his success has been sparse. He spends most of his time sitting in his lab among scattered debris and half-built steam engines dreaming about the day, where he can leave the surface of the earth and fly to the moon.
On the pitch he naturally fills out the role of the TTM-volunteer.

John's favourite home-made poem:

<b>Ode to a Nightingale</b>
My heart aches and drowsy numbness pains
my inner sanctum - now I am in chains.
I want to lift myself up high above
the feeble earth, up to the humble dove.
I wanna fly,
up in the sky,
I wanna tell the world that everything's allright,
I wanna hold you, hold you tight
baby, let me show you the light.

George Buy Ron was known as the filthy urchin dressed in rags who followed the halfling warparties to plunder the remains of fallen enemies. Once he actually tried to buy the body of one of his sworn enemies - Ron - before Ron was slain. Unfortunately Ron survived and George didn't get his money back.
After Shake Spear's conversion and the renaming of the Wood Food Poetry Village George has gone into a selfdestructive mode, and he now tries to buy indulgence and pardon from everybody.

George's favourite home-made poem:

<b>My Soul is Dark</b>
My soul is dark - o quickly string
the bow and aim it at my heart,
and let thy gentle fingers fling
the arrow in an apple tart.
O sorrowful Leviathan,
I beg you: Please forgive me!
My sins are in this little can,
I want to be a frisbee!

Oscar... he's just wild, and he writes wild poems too.

Oscar's favourite home-made poem:

<b>Amor Intellectualis</b>
Amor intellectus
pro sibuit laborandum
ex tunc dividendat uxor protego
ab salvatoribus
cum electis tu
de angelis
ex pluribus
sine non fragma
naufragium dulce est
coelestem adspicit lucem
et aequam memento
rebus in arduis servare mentem!

W. B. Yeast is <a href="http://fumbbl.com/FUMBBL.php?page=player&player_id=1659508">William Bake</a>'s brother, and together they have created this famous poem about cake. Halflings all over the world know the lines and use them regularly when facing the difficult task of baking a real pepper cake.

<b>Song of Innocence in the Seven Woods</b>
When a spinster is about to bake
a real pepper cake,
she first grabs a mighty cauldron
and approximately two pounds of butter,
and if the cauldron doesn't overturn
and the butter doesn't burn
she then mixes it with two pounds of sugar
and a teaspoonful - not a ton -
of some wonderful cinnamon!

And in the sugar and butter
she'll put 6 yolks and mutter
while she stirs and pours
two pounds of snowwhite flour.
Now the worst is over,
and she seasons the paste
with a little bit of pepper,
now the cake can't be better!

After the finishing of the song W. B. Yeast complained, that the cake in his opinion lacked a very important ingredient, but Bake explained to him, that pepper cakes aren't supposed to rise at all.

Richard is the only haiku-halfling in the Wood Food Poetry Village.

Richard's favourite home-made poem:

<b>To Lucasta</b>
I am unkinde
Of thy chest and quiet minde
To armes I flie

Mistress now I have
The first foe on the great field
A horse and a shield

The rain is pouring
on my hat when I consume
a damp butterfly

Christopher's known to be angry and/or depressed most of the time. He joined the Wood Food Poetry Book Team only to prove, that it is easy to get killed if you really want to.

Christopher's favourite home-made poem:

<b>Illusion</b>
i
wake
up
in
the
morning
and
then
i
go
to
bed
again
what
a
life