Shake me, change me, lend me, tie me. Near things are at me. If I feed you, don't bite me.

I have a bark but cannot bite, I am very small and light, Broken off by the wind, you’ll see, I'm a tiny piece of a tree

When the music dies, I become a prize, a sudden throne before your eyes. Fought over fast in frantic flair, the game is won by sitting here.

Silent sculptor of winter's might, crystal cloak on land and sea. Slippery surface, dancers glide, in drinks, I bring cool delight.

Your back’s greatest source of gratitude.