I’m information, I’m sport, I’m dance. I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m ham. What am I?

With my long neck And Big wide tongue I can lap up that hole All day, son.

Where pavement meets the edge, I stand, A boundary line in concrete's hand. Stopping wheels and feet alike, I brace the road with steadfast might.

You need to get me wet before you start to play, then stroke me in a rhythm any which way. I’m messy and slippery while spinning on the spot, but I get rock hard when things get really hot.

Sometimes used to knock down beasts, a friendly bar game makes use of me. A deer when running hither and tither, a piercing glance, an iron sliver.