I hang on a neck but I’m not a tie, With every step, I testify. Clang and clatter through field and dell, A farmyard’s chime you know too well.

In a swamp where the creatures do creep, A gooey green blanket they keep. It sticks to your shoe, And smells a bit too, A slippery slop do you seek.

In rivers I glide, sleek and wide, Shells I crack with a splash at my side. Playful antics in the water I display, Dancing in currents, come what may.

A full lunar cycle I last, Can't eat or drink while the Sun is cast, Easy? Try it, you'll change your tune, My harbinger is the crescent Moon

The first part you can cook or bake with. The second part is a pest or what the weight brothers achieved. Combined, it’s something beautiful, something associated with transformation.