I wear a coat of green and drink the dawn like wine, I whisper underfoot and bend when you pass by, I carpet fields and playgrounds but never wear a crown.

I boasted great skill and dared a goddess to a weave. My skill shamed the gods, but my hubris brought blight. For now I’m condemned to spin, not cloth but thread, With many legs where once I tread, thus I weave my penance instead.

Arr, a tune that stirs the breeze, where salty tales meet the seas. Echoes from the sailor's chest, a hearty song that ne'er lets ye rest!

I have wings, but I do not have beak. I am known for being one of the finest flyers in the insect world .

I sound like a boy you had on an ocean cruise, I come in four forms and mark the time you lose, If you add an -ing I can still be a noun and wind up in all sorts of foods