I come at the end, small but discrete, In books or your belly, I’m a supplemental treat. A vestige of old, once thought obsolete, or extra material that makes texts complete.

Like a choice between, Like a metal unrefined, I sound like both of these, But it's not how I'm defined. With 'B' a pig's my brother, When sails give out I'm good, In days of yore moved to the beat of a drum when I was made of wood.

I have one head, one foot, and for legs. In other contexts, I can be found be a river or in a garden. What am I?

Treasure is on the tip of my tongue, but if you're like me, you'll never tell

i am a spacecraft... orbiting the largest planet in your solor system. i have discovered weird radiation from the planet so far... the planet that im orbiting is gasious. what am i?