I’m written in lights on velvet night, A scattered story, stitched in sight. I guide lost sailors, name the skies, In ancient tales and modern eyes. Not one bright spark, but many combined, What am I, mapped by humankind?

I’m long, I’m royal, and I’m held with pride, A firm little symbol kings keep by their side. I’m stroked, I’m polished, I’m raised when they’re bold. What am I?

The Liberty type has one e, the Southern type has two. If you change the e in the Liberty type to an a, it is where you might find the Southern type.

No rules exist within my realm-I make sweet music with whiskey and smoke. Live recordings define my name, for playing the same twice is no easy joke. From New Orleans roots to bebop flights, I'm the sound of soul in syncopated nights.

I am dark and bitter, but can be milky sweet. I was a luxury for Kings, but now for all to treat. What am I?