They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?

Gloves!

Got it CA, Well done!

That one was too easy..

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They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?

Gloves!

Got it CA, Well done!

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"none so blind as those who will not see" (John Heywood 1546)

Don't drink water, that stuff rusts pipes!


You are making Proof out of Logic, by just being dubious! {Bluestar to me)

They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?

Gloves!

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They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?

---

"none so blind as those who will not see" (John Heywood 1546)

Don't drink water, that stuff rusts pipes!


You are making Proof out of Logic, by just being dubious! {Bluestar to me)

Wheat or corn turned into bread

Very good Chris S - The answer I have is Bread, but Wheat fits just as well.

These are all Victorian Children's Riddles I have picked up from very old comics over the years - I am always on the look-out for 'new ones'!

Anyone else got any good riddles?

Best Wishes to Everyone for a Happy & Prosperous New Year.

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Coal

Well Done Dark Angel !!

I only have one more - try this one:

I am the golden Prince. Cut down in my prime by the blades of friends,
beaten and crushed, I rise again, transformed by fire to sit dressed in
gold on a throne of white.

Who am I?

Wheat or corn turned into bread

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"none so blind as those who will not see" (John Heywood 1546)

Don't drink water, that stuff rusts pipes!


You are making Proof out of Logic, by just being dubious! {Bluestar to me)

Coal

Well Done Dark Angel !!

I only have one more - try this one:

I am the golden Prince. Cut down in my prime by the blades of friends,
beaten and crushed, I rise again, transformed by fire to sit dressed in
gold on a throne of white.

Who am I?

---

Clouds

That was close John, but Beethoven got the answer exactly right.

How about this one?

I used to live above the ground
Midst Sun and Wind and Rain
But no-one came to talk to me
For comfort in my Pain
So then I lay beneath the ground
In darkness was my rest
Till crushed beneath an Iron Hand
I from the Earth was wrest
But not for long was daylight mine
In fire I met my Doom
To keep the wheels in Motion
And Light up every Room.

But who am I?

Coal

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Clouds

That was close John, but Beethoven got the answer exactly right.

How about this one?

I used to live above the ground
Midst Sun and Wind and Rain
But no-one came to talk to me
For comfort in my Pain
So then I lay beneath the ground
In darkness was my rest
Till crushed beneath an Iron Hand
I from the Earth was wrest
But not for long was daylight mine
In fire I met my Doom
To keep the wheels in Motion
And Light up every Room.

But who am I?

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A flower, maybe an Easter Lily

Hi Mikey, that's close enough I guess - do you have Daffodils in spring on your side of the Ocean?

How about this one . . .

Insubstantial as air, Substantial as stone,
I ride on the wind bearing Life and Death in my wings.
Ever changing, I remain always the same.
What am I?

Clouds

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How about this one . . .

Insubstantial as air, Substantial as stone,
I ride on the wind bearing Life and Death in my wings.
Ever changing, I remain always the same.
What am I?

seeds

Sorry Captain - close but not the answer this time. Seeds don't fit the first line well - or the last . . .

Thunder storm?

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BOINC WIKI

How about this one . . .

Insubstantial as air, Substantial as stone,
I ride on the wind bearing Life and Death in my wings.
Ever changing, I remain always the same.
What am I?

seeds

Sorry Captain - close but not the answer this time. Seeds don't fit the first line well - or the last . . .

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A flower, maybe an Easter Lily

Hi Mikey, that's close enough I guess - do you have Daffodils in spring on your side of the Ocean?

How about this one . . .

Insubstantial as air, Substantial as stone,
I ride on the wind bearing Life and Death in my wings.
Ever changing, I remain always the same.
What am I?

seeds

---

A flower, maybe an Easter Lily

Hi Mikey, that's close enough I guess - do you have Daffodils in spring on your side of the Ocean?

How about this one . . .

Insubstantial as air, Substantial as stone,
I ride on the wind bearing Life and Death in my wings.
Ever changing, I remain always the same.
What am I?

---

Crow.

Great Stuff John - exactly right.

Try this one . . .

Yellow as butter is my nodding head,
With body as green as the grass.
I arise in the spring from my winter bed,
And at Easter they come and they cut off my head,
To display it supported by glass.
Who am I?

A flower, maybe an Easter Lily

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Crow.

Great Stuff John - exactly right.

Try this one . . .

Yellow as butter is my nodding head,
With body as green as the grass.
I arise in the spring from my winter bed,
And at Easter they come and they cut off my head,
To display it supported by glass.

Who am I?

---

She is too short to hit the upper buttons.

Spot on Mikey . . . you guys are pretty good!

Now this one's a real oldie:

Walking in the country in my smart black suit
Never mind the weather be it wet or dry
Gravel voice a calling, cannot sing or toot,
Following the plough; but just who am I?

Crow.

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BOINC WIKI

She is too short to hit the upper buttons.

Spot on Mikey . . . you guys are pretty good!

Now this one's a real oldie:

Walking in the country in my smart black suit
Never mind the weather be it wet or dry
Gravel voice a calling, cannot sing or toot,
Following the plough; but just who am I?

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A little girl lives on the 10th floor of a Housing Complex. She goes to school on the second floor. Every day she sets off with her books and lunch in her schoolbag, and takes the lift down to the second floor and goes into school. On the way home she usually meets some of her friends or Neighbours in the lift, and goes straight home. If she doesn't meet anyone, she gets out at the seventh floor, and walks home up the stairway.
Why?

She is too short to hit the upper buttons.

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Scary Riddle


What would you call the ghost of a door-to-door salesman?
A dead ringer.

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LETS BEGIN IN 2010