Answer:
What can you always count on?
It's held in the hand when going out.
I run over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night I sit not alone. My tongue hangs out, up and to the rear, awaiting to be filled in the morning
when will the void end?
If roses are red, violets are blue, what is stuffed, brown and blue?
Thousands lay up gold within this house. But no man made it. Spears past counting guard this house, but no man wards it.