We stop kings in their trotting tracks, We have armor on our very tall backs. Build us a path with shrubs in a pair, Then with a herring, chop the tree over there. Antlers we dawn on our helmets so mighty, But if we hear IT, we get awfully flighty.

I am a toasted, sunset-hued polygon of brine and dairy. My hollow heart is defined by the very steel that birthed it.

What slips, laps and rolls, yet is stuck to the same spot for its lifetime?

I clean your face or cover your lap, maybe in a pinch even wipe your crap.

I'm at the tip of a tongue, but not part of it, yo. I'm what boys seek, but can't find it, ya know? I've been called button, pearl, hat, and bean. For a bear in SF, I'll never be seen. Push too hard and you will regret, but you tread lightly... bet.