I'm a tiny worker and can carry fifty times my own weight. People generally don't appreciate me though, because sometimes their homes I invade.

I've got thorns on the outside and a heart of gold, with a scent so intense that it's famously bold. I am best described as a mix between custard and onions of doom. My aroma is so pungent, I'm forbidden in many a hotel room

I am under the sea but not very deep, Sharp and colorful, where small fish sleep. Ships must avoid me or they may crash. What am I, hidden beneath the splash?

I'm known for my melancholy, A symbol of past druidry. You may find me in a cemetery Or where water whispers quietly.

Orange, round, and carved, Awaiting ghosts and trick or treat, Autumn's glowing smile.