I wear a shell, but I am no turtle, I can be beaten, but never defeated. The lore of my fall became a legendary tale, Yet no king’s men could ever put me back together.

Made for champions, though runners up get me too. Sometimes everyone gets one, consolation included. Prize may fit, but that is not my name. Call me a cup, a ring, or something earned in the game.

This zesty delight, makes pies and teas taste just right. Though sour as a grumpy heart, it brings sunshine to a tasty tart.

They say I'm mightier than any sword and yet felt weak when hold

Though I sound like a rooster that lives inside, or a dirty bird that likes to ride, I'm neither. I'm more like a valve that controls the flow, of water as it goes to and fro.