Wreathed in golden rays, my fiery mane, I follow the light and bless the rain. Towering and proud, I was in my youth; but now that I'm old, I've started to stoop. Rend the skin to reach the meat, for it pains me not when you claim my treat.

I live in a plains environment or zoo, but I do not live in a small area at all. People associate me with floppy ears and operational drops.

A glass castle holds a silent crowd, some dressed bright, some shy, some proud. No doors to open, yet you stare, at worlds that ripple through liquid air.

Where can large water-dwelling mammals only dream of graduating from when they grow up?

Why do the watermelon and the honeydew melon have to have a wedding ceremony? Because they: