In creamy dreams and frosty nights, a pure delight in simple sights. A gentle blend in every swirl, a classic choice in dessert's whirl.

You can do this while you work, Though all around may think you a je-rk. Seven dwarves sang it loud and strong, It fit the film, but still feels wrong.

I'm kinda like a pitcher with a long, narrow nose. Handier than a glass and more practical than a hose.

I start as milk, then change with time, The older I get, the more I shine.

Witnesses swear they saw a head, Round and full, or so they said. But once the suspect was cut apart, No brain, no thoughts, no central part. What was the head?