I split, I peel, you slip, and bread make, pause and have an ice cold shake.

It delights my enjoyers to suck at my butt, and taste the flavor profile of soot. I'm made between thighs and cause envious sighs, and my length can be half of a foot. And sometimes I am just what I am.

My first three is black and white, with red inside. My last four can toll the hour. Together, more of me is the only prescription for a fever.

I wander the pines where I live to this day, but when you try to come visit I’ve just walked away. Some say I’m a ghost since I’ve never been found, but I’ll still leave a print to let you know I’m around.

I’m less than stop in full and yet there’s slightly more of me I like to tag along with words, I hitchhike plainly seen I’m used to introduce, to list, and join lone clauses hands I hate to brag, but you could say that I’m an Oxford man