Made for surgery, but brought in now, I’d put money on a lawsuit. In the right hands, I make trees quiver, enough to yell timber and move out the way.

Smiling sound? Melting gold? Stinky stuff, Sometimes with mold.

A bad golfer makes these long and deep. A courteous golfer replaces theirs without a peep. On the green they are a menace. Your foot may leave one in lawn tennis. Spell it wrong and you’ve got Sanskrit for heavenly.

Dust-born words upon the wall, gone again at cleaning’s call.

Cut it, it’s time to let loose on the floor. A throw on the ground, near your bed or front door. Swap the end for a ‘B’, it’s what’s needed when sore. Add a ‘D’ at the start, pharmaceutical store.