In winter's grip, I hang so sly, A frozen spike against the sky. A drip turned solid, sharp and bright, I gleam in morning's first light.

Before your kind, I ruled the sky. My beak can wound you, sharp, not meek. Millions of years, my line won't die. Bird and reptile, which do you seek?

He stands beside the road in a purple cap and tattered green cloak. Those who touch him, curse him.

In science I measure, in earth I reside, on skin I appear, though small I may hide. From numbers to tunnels to marks you can see, one word defines all versions of me.

While I till soil and move leaves, the other leaves soil in your jeans. Our names are the same, except I'm a tool and it's a fiend.