Fiddle dee dee, a strange riddle am me! Fiddle dee doo, I’m a compound word that could be a an envy-colored home. Fiddle doo dum, you can grow plants during the winter in these, like plums!

I’m stitched from notes both high and low, a ribbon made of ebb and flow. I climb the air, then tumble free, a sound that feels like fantasy.

It can fly It can hit It can flirt It can hang

I give your body shape and frame, though I myself feel little pain. Break me once and you will groan, what am I beneath your own?

Houston's favorite space toy without it people will sad and looking up in the sky all day