The origin of sabotage My soul is from the trees If the path's too rocky Then the Dutch might lend you these And Sherlock Holmes would find my mark A most intriguing clue Could it be more obvious? I am a...

Built to defend, to stand, to fight, with walls that hold through day and night.

I'm known for my melancholy, A symbol of past druidry. You may find me in a cemetery Or where water whispers quietly.

A single glass guardian, perched high with pride, keeps one eye keen while the other hides. A fashion of the past, a lens of the elite. Balanced on the bridge, a vision discreet.

I am a symbol of French cuisine, but my origins can be traced back to thirteenth century Austria. Making me by hand takes a lot of time.