Both an insult and something worth praise; a day in November I'm a craze; constantly compared to dirt, ask for a lemon I'll give but a squirt, my advantage is only for a phase.

I can sit on top of cake. People often try to fake. I'm in circles of the wood. Don't ask girls. They say it's rude.

I am made out of berries or cars. People also make me out of jazz. Being stuck in me can be called farce.

I constantly have tea on me, from everybody spilling, But I prefer a life on stage, if the theater is willing.

I’m used hundreds of times, though always last to be seen. Just don’t get excited! Because then I’m missing. Once every month, I’ll ruin your plans for the night. Unless you’re expecting, then I’m nowhere in sight.