In a court with lines so neat and tall, Where a bouncing sphere takes charge of all, It flies through the air, With expert flair, And swishes through the net to the crowd's call.

I am an animal product, with a medieval feel. I reigned a good part of the millennium though, until I was dethroned by steel. I drink from a little vase, on paper and parchment I leave my trace.

Rings that attatch to eachother look great. I ordered something, the deliverer's on their way...

You’ll find me in a ring and down the slopes, but not in the octagon.

Holding a door On top of some bread Try to get out of me Use me as spread