I start like gold but turn to silver, a wish-maker’s friend who scatters with the breeze.

I wear a little green cap, but have no head, my freckles bloom, speckling the red. I’m sweet but shy in summer’s sun, and am nestled low when day is done.

You'll often see me within a school. You'll find me in water but never a pool. My colours are pretty, and really quite cool. The rod how I hate it! Detestable tool!

I move without legs, I roar without a mouth, I swallow ships and spit them out, I dance with moonlight, fierce and proud

By mountain’s root in pools I dwell, A name forgotten, lost to spell. Two voices weave my tattered will.. One whisper soft, one sharp and shrill.