I fill your ears with my symphony and though you hate it you clap for me. I take a bow just before your applause. For quenching my thirst, my life is yours. If you’re lucky. What am I?

I’m found in the sky, I’m found in the deep; I’m the sound when music cries, I’m the emotions that make you weep. What am I?

I have no voice, yet songs I bring, I dance in air but have no wings. In gentle touch, I sing so light, but storms may turn my song to fright. Hung up high, I bide my time What am I, with tunes sublime?

I am brown, often round, and I was born underground. Irish and hobbits are known to eat me. You can mash me or stick me in a stew. I could even power a lightbulb.

I am friends with a famous five. Initially unwelcome, but now we jive. The chosen one, according to info archival. A snow leopard was my very first rival. I move like water, fluid and jumping. And I will stop at nothing, when the prize is a dumpling.