Riddle: 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.
Rating: 100%
Rating: 100%
Rating: 75%
Rating: 100%
Riddle: You fill me up when I get low. On roads and highways, with me, you go. What am I?
Rating: 100%