Answer:
My prefix is food. My suffix is rude. My infix comes in rounds. I keep you off the ground. What Am I?
I hide but my head is outside.
I am never quite what I appear to be. Straight-forward I seem, but it's only skin deep. For mystery most often lies beneath my simple speech. Sharpen your wits, open your eyes, look beyond my exteriors, read me backwards, forwards, upside down. Think and answer the question...
If you're stealing honey, be prepared to receive vengeance in this form.
I have four wings but cannot fly. I never laugh and never cry. On the same spot always found, toiling away with little sound.
When is it bad luck to see a black cat?