I am beautiful, up in the sky.
I am magical, yet I cannot fly.
To people I bring luck, to some people, riches.
The boy at my end does whatever he wishes.
What am I?

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When you stop and look, you can always see me. If you try to touch, you cannot feel me. I cannot move, but as you near me, I will move away from you.

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His eyes were raging, that scraggly beast.
His lips were bursting, with rows of angry teeth.
Upon his back a razor was found.
It was a fearsome battle we fought,
my life – or his, one would be bought.
And when we were through,
and death chilled the air,
we cut out his heart, and ate it with flair.

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I am the fountain from which no one can drink.
For many I am considered a necessary link.
Like gold to all I am sought for,
but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.

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I am not very commonly found! Only in some rainforest! I have an odd number of toes! I'm very lazy and hang upside down! What am I?

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Grows from the ground, bushes and grass, leaves of yellow, red and brow, unruly plants, get the axe, trim the hedge back down.

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A precious stone, as clear as diamond.
Seek it out while the sun's near the horizon.
Though you can walk on water with its power,
try to keep it, and it'll vanish in an hour.

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I am enjoyed by some, despised by others. Some take me for granted, some treasure me like a gift. I last forever, unless you break me first. What am I?

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I've got a beautiful, beautiful hall all walled in red velvet, with all white armchairs made of bone, and in the middle a woman dances.

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I spend most of my day eating white. When I am quick enough, I get rewarded with fruit and somethings blue. In a dark room with blue walls, I run from the ghost that roam the halls. What am I?

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I beam, I shine, I sparkle white.
I'll brighten the day with a single light.
I'll charm and enchant all.
I'll bring the best in you all.
What am I?

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I'm a red creature from the sea with large claws, or pincers, and I'm often boiled and served as an expensive dish at seafood restaurants.

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Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen.

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It cannot be seen, it cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
Lies behind stars and under hills,
and empty holes it fills.
Comes first follows after,
Ends life kills laughter.

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Two in a whole and four in a pair. Six in a trio you see. Eight's a quartet but what you must get is the name that fits just one of me. What am I?

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I am the third from a sparkle bright,
I thrive throughout the day and night.
Deep in the path of a cows white drink.
I've had thousands of millions of years to think.
But one of my creatures is killing me.
And so the question I ask to thee,
is who am I?

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It is destruction made out of thin air,
You hear it howl and give a prayer,
Through barns and houses it will tear.
It is a deadly funnel,
Of violent and twisting air.

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The floor's on top, the roof's beneath, and from this place I rarely leave. Yet with the passing of each day. A new horizon greets my gaze.

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I can be quick and then I'm deadly,
I am a rock, shell and bone medley.
If I was made into a man, I'd make people dream,
I gather in my millions By ocean, sea and stream.

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I run around the streets all day. Under the bed or by the door I sit at night, never alone. My tongue hangs out, waiting to be fed during the day. What am I?

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I fly to any foreign parts,
assisted by my spreading wings.
My body holds an hundred hearts,
Nay, I will tell you stranger things when I am not in haste I ride,
and then I mend my pace anon.
I issue fire from my side.
You witty youths, this riddle con.

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This thing all things devours,
Birds, beasts, trees, and flowers.
Gnaws iron bites steel,
Grinds hard stones to meal,
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.

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You get embarrassed when you stand on me when everybody is watching. Women don't like to talk about the number they see on me. Everyone stands on me when nobody is around. What am I?

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My first is in window but not in pane.
My second's in road but not in lane.
My third is in oval but not in round.
My fourth is in hearing but not in sound.
My whole is known as a sign of peace.
And from noah's ark won quick release.

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It's small but larger than a bee,
And agile as a flea.
It humms but does not buzz,
And it's not covered with fuzz.
It is a small collector,
Of juicy flower nectar.

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I can be winding and I can be straight. I can be smooth and I can be rough. Sometimes both. I start out black but fade to brown the more I am used. My favorite colors are yellow and white, and I love stripes and dashed lines. What am I?

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The strongest chains will not bind it. Ditch and rampart will not slow it down. A thousand soldiers cannot beat it, it can knock down trees with a single bush.

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They're big and yet so far away, We see them at the end of day. They're small and they're above. We see them when we close our eyes, Each time we are in love.

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It is a big and bulky mammal,
And has a trunk just like a tree.
Will store water in its nose,
Which is long and like a hose.

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There is a three digit number. The second digit is four times as big as the third digit, while the first digit is three less than the second digit. What is the number?

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I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.

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When it shines, its light is hazy.
Makes the oceans swell like crazy.
It makes moods seem more romantic,
But it makes the ladies frantic.

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I march before armies, a thousand salute me.
My fall can bring victory, but no one would shoot me.
The wind is my lover, one-legged am I.
Name me and see me at home in the sky.

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I have two arms, but fingers none. I have two feet, but cannot run. I carry well, but I have found I carry best with my feet off the ground. What am I?

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Man of old, it is told would search until he tired,
not for gold, ne'er be sold, but what sought he was fire.
Man today, thou mayst say, has quite another aim,
in places deep, he did seek, to find me for his gain!

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I have been the beginning of ideas for all time, yet I am just one simple small object, the things that you can use me for can be frustrating and also I can be pretty. I have some of the most valuable thing in the world on me, yet almost everyone owns me. With me you can make anything. What am I?

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I am small, but, when entire,
of force to set a town on fire;
Let but one letter disappear,
I then can hold a herd of deer;
Take one more off, and then you'll find
I once contained all human kind.

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*Forward* *backwards* is what I do all day. I come in all different shapes and sizes. I can be scary, and I can calm you down. What am I?

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Halfway up the hill, I see you at last, lying beneath me with your sounds and sights. A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.

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My children are near and far.
No matter that I know where they are.
The gift I give them make their day.
But if I were gone they would wander away.

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Used to wield power and glory, yet results were rather gorey,
When it wrote our human story.
In the eyes of wiser men, it is weaker than a pen.

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A necessity to some, a treasure to many,
I'm best enjoyed among pleasant company.
Some like me hot, some like me cold.
Some prefer mild, some like me bold.
What am I?

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My first is in ocean but never in sea.
My second's in wasp but never in bee.
My third is in glider and also in flight.
My whole is a creature that comes out at night.

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I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost everybody.

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When I am visible to you, you cannot see me, but when I am invisible, you long to see me. I am plenty with someone patient, but all the more scarce with a hasty one. I am greater than all, but still in the control of those who value my existence. Who am I?

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It speaks to you, yet it can't speak. When you hold it you can travel, in your mind's eye worlds unravel. And everything in it's a lie. And with every new untruth, still you feel it speaks the truth.

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So beautiful and cold,
So young and yet so old,
Alive but always dead,
Still hungry when has fed,
Will die if it is bled,
Or you cut off its head.

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I have palms but not on hands,
I offer foods from distant lands,
When at my peak you'll see me smoke,
I'm famous for my friendly folk,
My flowers grow and yet they lay,
There's fire where a man will play.
What am I?

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It's round but also like a chess-board.
It can and is both whirled and curled,
And bent and shot and parried.
Some play it on a field or watch it on the couch,
And anyone can play it, even Peter Crouch.

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They belong to me; they belong to you;
They can make you feel happy or make you feel blue;
They never end until the day you do.

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We are little airy creatures,
all of different voice and features,
one of us in glass is set.
One of us you'll find in jet.
Another you may see in tin.
And the fourth a box within.
If the fifth you should pursue,
it can never fly from you.
What are we?

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I have a little sister, they call her Peep, Peep;
She wades the waters deep, deep, deep;
She climbs the mountains high, high, high;
Poor little creature she has but one eye.

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An utensil used for bread.
Also a paper cutter.
Used by a thug to take a life,
Or wielded by the tamest wife,
When used to spread the butter.

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A hundred years I once did live,
and often wholesome food did give,
yet all that time I ne'er did roam,
so much as a half a mile from my home,
my days were spent devoid of strife,
until at last I lost my life.
And since my death – I pray give ear,
I oft have traveled far and near.

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We are few to the wise; We are abundant to the drunken; We can calm the beast and are precious to the child; We can devour the heart, without piercing the skin.

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When people come for me to meet,
they come to me with heavy feet.
The one I hold, when I get my chance,
will turn and spin, and start to dance.

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Sleeping during the day, I hide away.
Watchful through the night, I open at dawn's light.
But only for the briefest time, do I shine.
And then I hide away. And sleep through the day.

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It's like a forest without trees, Like a jail you want to visit. Though the inmates did no wrong. You may freely walk along, They're put there so you can see them, Just as long as you don't feed them.

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I can wave my hands at you, but I never say goodbye.
You are always cool when with me, even more so when I am high!
What am I?

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I have legs but seldom walk;
I backbite many but never talk;
I seek places that can hide me
because those that feed me cannot abide me.

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I am used for light yet I am solid. Without me you would feel enclosed. I hate being touched, especially with a lot of force. I like to be in buildings. What am I?

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My first a blessing sent to earth, of plants and flowers to aid the birth; my second surely was designed to hurl destruction on mankind; my whole a pledge from pardoning heaven, of wrath appeased and crimes forgiven.

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I am the type of room you can not enter or leave. Raise from the ground below. I could be poisonous or a delicious treat. What am I?

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I come without being fetched at night, hides away as soon as daylight strikes. Although I may look small, I am much mightier than what you can imagine. What am I?

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It passes but you never hear it. Sometimes though, you think you feel it. You think you had it but it's gone. You want to stop it, but it moves on. You lose it, gain it, maybe fear it, but it goes on, forever on.

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They make no sense at all,
In them you either fly or fall.
They make you do it all.
Their need is biologic,
but they are most illogic.
They are not real but still can be achieved,
If they are just believed.

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It holds most knowledge that has ever been said.
But is not the brain, is not the head.
To feathers and their masters, it's both bane and boon.
One empty, and one full.

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At the end of my yard there is a vat,
four-and-twenty ladies dancing in that;
Some in green gowns, and some with blue hat;
He is a wise man who can tell me that.

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I lack much reason, but often rhyme,
And require logic to pass the time,
To get the words to tell your kin,
Look for clues that lie within,
Though all are different, they act the same,
The answer is practically in the name.

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Silently I drink and dive in fluids dark as night.
I beat the mighty warrior but never in fight.
The black blood in my veins your thirst for knowledge slakes.
My spittle is more venomous than that of poison snakes.

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It was a tradition long ago,
When the world was dark and full of woe.
When men turned darkness into light,
By mixing, melting and decanting in the night,
To seek for youth and gold and riches,
Just to be burned as witches.

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Small, containing light,
You'll need it in the dark,
It will provide that spark,
and shine into the night.
Will light up any pyre,
'Cause it can help make a fire.

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When liquid splashes me, none seeps through.
When I am moved a lot, liquid I spew.
When I am hit, color I change.
And color, I come in quite a range.
What I cover is very complex,
And I am very easy to flex.

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You will find me with four legs, but no hair. People ride me for hours, but I don't go anywhere without needing to be tugged. Jerked or turned on, I always manage to be ready for work.

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Every dawn begins with me.
At dusk I'll be the first you see,
and daybreak couldn't come without.
What midday centers all about.
Daisies grow from me, I'm told.
And when I come, I end all code,
but in the sun I won't be found.
Yet still, each day I'll be around.

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The cost of making only the maker knows, valueless if bought, but sometimes traded. A poor man may give one as easily as king. When one is broken pain and deceit are assured.

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I am pronounced as one letter, written with three. I come in blue, black, brown, or grey. Reverse me and I read the same either way. What am I?

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My first is in riddle, but not in little.
My second is in think, but not in brink.
My third is in thyme, but not in time.
My fourth is in mother, but not in brother.
My last is in time, but not in climb.

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My head and tail both equal are, my middle slender as a bee. Whether I stand on head or heel Is quite the same to you or me. But if my head should be cut off, the matter's true, though passing strange directly I to nothing change.

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A most delicious thing.
It can be given but cannot be kept.
Some awake from it after they've slept.
It is the moistest and softest butterfly wing,
But when it is the last even it can sting.

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I am the tool, for inspiring many. Buy me in the store, for not much more than a penny. Don't overuse me, or my usefulness will go.

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I shift around, though always slowly. I never move more than a few inches at a time. A large movement by me can kill many people. I am huge, yet unseen by humans. What am I?

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You are in a room with 3 monkeys. One monkey has a banana, one has a stick, and one has nothing. Who is the smartest primate?

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I am not alive and yet I grow. Just put me next to where it grows. A favorite of the summertime, best with friends when combined. What am I?

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I think you live beneath a roof that is upheld by me;
I think you seldom walk abroad, but my fair form you see;
I close you in on every side, you very dwelling pave,
and probably I'll go with you at last into the grave.

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Sometimes I fly as fast as the speed of light. Sometime I crawl as slow as a snail. Unknown until I am measured but you will certainly miss me when I'm gone. What am I?

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Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover.
And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover.
I'm high, and I'm low, though flat in the middle.
And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.

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My first is in fish but no in snail.
My second is in rabbit but no in tail.
My third is in up but not in down.
My fourth is in tiara but not in crown.
My fifth is in tree you plainly see.
My whole a food for you and me.

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The wave, over the wave, a weird thing I saw, Through-wrought, and wonderfully ornate: A wonder on the wave-water became bone.

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It can be repeated but rarely in the same way. It can't be changed but can be rewritten. It can be passed down, but should not be forgotten.

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Used left or right, I get to travel over cobblestone or gravel.
Used up, I vie for sweet success, used down, I cause men great duress.

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When the day after tomorrow is yesterday, today will be as far from Wednesday as today was from Wednesday when the day before yesterday was tomorrow. What is the day after this day?

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This food is a staple grain in many pantries worldwide. You often steam or boil it and serve it in a variety of different ways. One brand touts the fact that it can be cooked in 1 minute.

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Four wings I have, which swiftly mount on high,
on sturdy pinions, yet I never fly;
And though my body often moves around,
upon the self-same spot I'm always found,
and, like a mother, who breaks her infant's bread.
I chew for man before he can be fed.

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I can be moved. I can be rolled. But nothing will I hold. I'm red and I'm blue, and I can be other colors too. Having no head, though similar in shape. I have no eyes - yet move all over the place.

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I'm in a box, full of that which is most rare.
But I'm not a flute, and I'm not some hair.
Though soft be my bed, I'm as hard as a rock.
While dull in the dark, I glisten once unlocked.

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What does man love more than life, fear more than death or mortal strife.
What the poor have, the rich require, and what contented men desire.
What the miser spends, and the spendthrift saves.
And all men carry to their graves.

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I do not breathe, but I run and jump. I do not eat, but I swim and stretch. I do not drink, but I sleep and stand. I do not think, but I grow and play. I do not see, but you see me everyday.

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Sometimes it glitters, but often not;
May be cold, or may be hot!
Ever changing though the eye can't measure,
concealed within are many treasures.
Some find safety beneath its gate,
while some may die beneath its weight!
Old and broken, it brings forth life.

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It's in the church, but not in the steeple;
It's in the parson, but not in the people;
It's in the oyster, but not in the shell;
It's in the clapper, but not in the bell.

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