I wear a crown, but am no king. I scratch the dirt for tasty things. I give my treasure, smooth sometimes white, sometimes brown, Then often end up roasted, served throughout the town.

I build my home with perfect cells, And wear a suit of golden fells. I dance to share where treasures lie, And offer sweetness from the sky.

An army of one hundred, they want me to fight. A hypothetical battle to test their might. Against their numbers, I stand as one, A force of nature, second to none.

I am made of deposits found on the land, in puddles, in mud, and even in sand. I can form into models as it's what I do, but I can also be used for art projects too.

I often swing on hooks or trees, or guide the way with gentle ease. I'm carried to illuminate, and calm the fears that darkness ate. With glass and frame, I guard the glow; what am I? Come, let me show!