A tale in skin, etched deep and wide, The wound once healed, now memories reside. I'm what's left after all the cryin', Or a singing, scene-stealing cartoon lion.

One score and one fifth more, A third away to slumber, Another's sold for need of gold, A paltry, dwindling number

A fowl way to tell someone to protect their head.

I am a sudden thought, appearing without much forethought.

Where your car can be stored, and what your car may travel on