Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.

Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.

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It is basically a cake made of cow.

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Patch upon patch, without any stitches, if you tell me this riddle, I'll give you my breeches.

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Give it a toss, and it's ready, but not until it's dressed. What is it?

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What stinks when living and smells good when dead?

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Riddle of the Day

Jun 17, 2026

I’m grown from darkness but shine with a pale light. Very round I am and always a lady's delight.

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