I climb and I twine, My fruits are eaten raw or dry. The juice from them is called like I, with one letter... doubled. What am I? Do you know or are you puzzled?

I wear a crown of tiny beads, all dressed in ruby red, I’m sweet with just a hint of tart in every bite you’ve had. Blow me not I’m not a sound your lips would make in jest, But place me on a cake or tart, and I will be the best.

In skies where gods bellow and clash, a mighty roar rends the air. The earth trembles at its call, warriors pause, caught unaware.

As it stands, I am paint made by water, melting beneath the first heat of light. Add a Y and dip a fry, a simple, tasty fast-food delight. Cold by nature, altered by your touch, this frozen name belongs to a famous snowman.

I have no legs, but I am always running. I have no lungs, but I can’t stop breathing. I have a bed, but I never sleep. I have a mouth, but I never speak Though I can roar when I’m angry, And I’m always at my best when I’m going downhill.