Upon my skin are stories of old, My insides are all damp and cold, From the dawn of man's first fire, Shelter within has always transpired What am I?

I top your bathtub and crown your beer. I fill your pillow and grace your Michelin plate, my dear.

You will never find your needle with all the sneezing.

Horses and people both wear these. Worn year round for most. Gravel hurts without these!

I wait with cheese and patient grin, for whiskered guests to wander in. A tiny step, a fatal tap, and silence follows after SNAP.