When you need to rest or snooze, my four legs are yours to use. Potatoes spend too much time on me when they should be out and running free. Two notes make up my name, it's true, though I will never sing to you.

My first four a lie, a bogus farce, My last three something that comes from an arse. My whole dances foamily upon your top, Coaxing clean, shimmery waves from your filthy mop.

I am a description of sensation, Experienced by touch or emotion. A happy word or happy memory Can invoke a feeling of warmth, of glee. Embrace a fur blanket or a stuffed bear; So cozy, so soft, those bristles of hair.

I have many veins but no blood. I am green in the summer and brown in the fall. I grow on a tree, then I drop to the ground.

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