Beyond the big tent, where the strange things stay, the curious wander and drift my way. Unusual sights, bizarre and absurd, some too uncanny to fully put words. Not the main feature, yet many still go, drawn by the wonder of the unusual show.

Lay the stones, stack them high, like a pie in the sky. Brick by brick, dreams take flight, a sturdy home to sleep at night.

They say my kind models an ideal society, Towards the queen, workers show their piety. Watch your step, as I live in a hill, If I'm in your pants, you've lost your chill. What am I?

Calm or not, this riddle is a rat, stuck in one.

In the quiet night, a gentle drum that beats just right. The rhythm of life, steady and sweet, keeps us dancing on our feet.