No head has he but he wears a hat. No feet has he but he stands up straight. On him perhaps a fairy sat, weaving a spell one evening late!

What has everything inside it? Everything you can imagine even god, wind, world, sky, heaven, earth and everything that comes to your mind?

Above the kingdom I reign, Spotted, speckled, with a mane, I travel in packs, And if you're lucky, you'd ride me. What am I?

I am made from an animal, Although you nickname me after a different one. You can't eat me; you can only hold me, And once a year a festival is erected in my honor. What am I?

What grows in winter, dies in summer, and grows roots upward?

Downward grows the root. Outward grows the skin. Upward grows the shoot. What way blows the wind?

Shorter than my four siblings, but easily the strongest, Sometimes I wear a funny hat.

With head without hair. With mouth without tooth.

What flies around all day but never goes anywhere?

What's as small as a mouse but guards a house like a lion?

What gets whiter the dirtier that it gets?

On the wall, in the air, You just want me out of your hair, Try to catch me, but you cannot, For my vision is thousand fold. What am I?

I am born in fear, raised in truth, And I come to my own in deed. When comes a time that I'm called forth, I come to serve the cause of need.

I am slim and tall. Many find me desirable and appealing. They touch me and I give a false good feeling. Once I shine in splendor. But only once and then no more. For many I am to die for. What am I?

A little pool with two layers of wall around it. One white and soft and the other dark and hard, amidst a light brown grassy lawn with an outline of a green grass. What am I?

Looks like water, but it's heat. Sits on sand, lays on concrete. People have been known to follow it everywhere. But it gets them no place, and all they can do is stare.

You use me for multiple reasons, I am many colored, and many shaped. I may or may not also tell you your sexual preference. What am I?

My thunder comes before my lightning. My lightning comes before my rain. And my rain dries all the ground it touches. What am I?

I come when the weather is at its prime, Though, it might be wise to leave nothing on the street. But, in the wintertime my name is obsolete. What am I?

Useful tool for who in darkness dwell. Within you, corrupting like a deadly spell.