Answer:
What building has the most stories?
My keepers feed me colored balls. With sticks they store on my den walls. Sometimes I store them in my pouch. Sometimes deep in my belly; ouch!
You throw away my outside, you cook my inside. Then you eat my outside and you throw away my inside. What am I?
I come out of the earth, I am sold in the market. The one who buys me cuts my tail, takes off my suit of silk, and weeps beside me when I am dead. What am I?
My first is high my second damp my whole a tie a writer's cramp.
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.