Fuelled by oil stored in me, Pilots might do a roll of me, To avoid a bullet shot out of me. People might play with monkeys released from me, Or drink far too much ale stored within me, And the next day feel that they'd scraped the bottom of me

Pin Pop Or rise with flame And a sandbag drop. Up wouldn't be Up without it

I'm brown, I'm white. I'm solid, liquid, and powder. Everyone needs me, not everyone wants me, and quite a few people actively avoid me, but many still crave me. All in all, everyone agrees I'm sweet.

Cunningly carries contents captive, crafted to confine, a wooden wonder whirling through warehouse whispers.

Technically I am a legume, used for oil, butter or just a snack to enjoy. A famous cartoon is named after me, the one with the dog and the bald boy.