Whether facing the front or legs off to the side, it’s there to support - not needed to ride. Fastened with a cinch, no corset this is. Between beast and rider’s dance, a special one sits.

You can sit on one, often in a bar, maybe a hightop too; In times gone by, you'd sit on this, to make one, perhaps with a view. A doctor may ask for a sample, though taking a seat is not what they mean; I can be solid or runny, and tell them what your insides have seen.

No chewing needed, just a sip, For strong bones on every trip, White mustache when you drink, What am I? Take a think!

I’m tiny armor for a finger’s tip, I help push needles without a slip. In sewing rooms, I’m often found, Protecting fingers safe and sound. What am I?

I lead you higher with each step, a winding path of ups and downs, where feet tap in rhythmic sound, ascending dreams to greater heights.