Ahoy, me lads, I'm spun with might, Less air I hold, yet bind so tight. I help ye climb, or swing with glee, What am I, savvy? Tell me, d'ye see?

She sells seashells by the seashore, But tornados are moving in, one, maybe more, She should come inside, we can play a fun game! I have one with colored dots and a spinner, oh, what's its name?

I sit on the stem of something you admire. I are small, sharp, and easy to forget until you touch me. I don’t kill, but I do make you pull your hand back fast. What am I?

I am a silent witness to prayers and whispers, to birthdays and blackouts. I am lit to honor the living and the dead alike, yet I am always slowly dying.

A tradition this day in Pennsylvania Dutch country, use up all of your lard, sugar and butter before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. You may call them donuts, but typically these are square or triangular. Regardless, they are delicious.