Holding what’s needed, to battle the seize. First three goes in amber, cycling darkens to ease. Last three held in hand, pop the tab, liquid frees. A man of tin’s tool, gives his joints what they need.

Sound of something hitting the ground hard: first three. Next three: what ghosts say in a children's story. Together: ninety nine percent of a Chinese giant's food inventory.

Not a snake but I can wrap around, Keeping your things off the ground. Oft made of wood, raised up on blocks. I'm the perfect place for the old to rock!

I've got a painted face, it's true, And though I'm stuffed, some things I'll do. What am I, for me and you?

Dost thou crave a feast of layers bold, Where beef doth lie 'twixt bread of gold? Lettuce and cheese in harmony sing, A savory delight that peasants bring.