I hang from the corners of caps when you learn, And swing from the curtains at every turn. A bundle of threads, bound tight at the crown, I can dress up a rug or a graduate's gown.

I stand in rows of leafy green, where garden paths are neatly seen. Yet spoken in another way, I help keep risky bets at bay.

It's fine to hang me out to dry, but please don't air me in public when I'm still dirty!

What's black and white and stuck in a box?

Lightning struck the orchestra, but only one person got hit, it was the . . .