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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By Moon or by Sun, I shall be found. Yet I am undone, if there's no light around.

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I bubble and laugh and spit water in your face. I am no lady, and I don't wear lace.

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What kind of pet always stays on the floor?

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I am round as a bowl, deep as a tub, but all the world's water couldn't fill me up.

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Three lives have I. Gentle enough to soothe the skin. Light enough to caress the sky. Hard enough to crack rocks.

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Riddle of the Day

Dec 15, 2025

Often cooked as fillet, this meat comes from an animal that swims underwater.

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