I report great triumphs and dramatic woes, then get folded into props for schoolhouse shows.

I hang around, yet I’m no thief, I sit on shoulders, chairs, or floors. I hold your keys, your cash, your grief, Before you step through out-bound doors.

Find me in a park, at the beach or bus stop. Put your face on me, a picnic or a tushy. But I don't promise to be soft or cushy.

I can wave a beautiful Melody under a bow or turn a wooden puppet into a living dancer. I bind a tight bargain with hidden catches yet I am nothing more than a simple line of text what am i?

I feel like I'm seeing stars Did this just fall on my head Cartoons know this is funny but this container cannot hold honey.