Oh dear lord I seem to have broken my gourd Whatever will I use to fix it?

What is cut on a table, but never eaten?

A golem of straw In fields where crops lay A guardian among corn To scare murders away

We're gonna do this to the town with a can of red pigment! But don't get yourself stuck in a corner with all the wet liquid!

I have a jaw but cannot bite. I have no hands but hold on tight. I turn things round but never dance. I twist your fate, given the chance.