I'm a domestic bird, so popular that in these riddles of ours, I was used eight times in the last three hours.

I travel far though I have no feet, In crests and troughs, I rise and meet. Through air or wire my pulses stream, Carrying voices, code, and beam.

Listen up, slick. You think you're slippery, and can get away with your lies. You claim you can be used in cars and in cooking. But my car is allergic to olives, And my stir fry tastes like an engine. And don't get me started on your virgin talk - everytime I turn around you're getting used by someone else.

I am a palace without a throne, A crown of beams, yet open-boned. I host the feasts, the bands, the breeze, Where laughter drifts through dancing trees. No walls to guard, no doors to bar, Just shelter stitched from sun and star. In parks I rise with airy grace.

I am a wee little man, often dressed in green with a little green top hat... BUT luck is not with me, for I have Hansen's disease. Hmm. I seem to have lost feeling in my lucky arms...