A sacred stone both smooth and green, in ancient courts and temples I am seen.

I steal, I fix, I twist, I trade, a hammer forged from the tricks I’ve made. And with a sprig both small and slight, I stole away the god of light.

Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger, now I grow and linger. Upwards the tower I go, blossoming and blooming until a hundred years later, there comes her beau.

Sweet and fragrant is my specialty and the rest you can say it's history

A small little thing, with a heck of an effect, once lodged in a lions paw. Take it out and make a friend, just ask Androcles.