Feathers of speed in a land scorched dry, I mock pursuit with a fleeting cry. No snare or trap can hold me down, Though foes may chase with gadgets renowned. Ever ahead, never caught.

I’m sweet and cold, I love a swirl, I make you smile, boy or girl. I bring all the moods to the yard, With a straw, I’m soft, but I hit hard.

I tempt with tunes and talking mice, Sell dreams in ears, for quite the price. With castles, thrills, and grinning ghouls, I break the grown-ups’ boring rules.

I represent wealth, but I am not a significant value. People think of me as a dozen too common.

I can hurl things, but I cannot launch a ninety kg over three hundred meters. You might see me in a battlefield.