I turn my head and you may go where you want.
I turn it again, you will stay till you rot.
I have no face, but I live or die,
By my crooked teeth.

What am I?

My first is in wield, sever bones and marrow.
My second is in blade, forged in cold steel.
My third is in arbalest, and also in arrows.
My fourth is in power, plunged through a shield.
My fifth is in honor, and also in vows
My last will put an end to it all.

What am I?

Ten men’s strength,
Ten men’s length,
Ten men can’t break it,
Yet a young boy walks off with it.

What am I?

Hickory dickory dock!
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one
and down I come.
The man will never talk.

What am I?

Do not begrude this,
For it is the fate of every man.
Yet it is feared,
And shunned in many lands.
Causes problems, and sometimes gaps,
Can hobble the strongest, and make memory laps.
What is this danger we all face?
For being a part – of the human race.

What has wings but can not fly.
Is enclosed, but can outside also lie.
Can open itself up or close itself away.
Is the place of kings and queens,
And doggerel of every means.
What is it upon which I stand,
Which can lead us to different lands?

Up a hill,
Down a hill,
Over them I may roam,
But after all my walking,
There’s no place like my own.

A laugh, a cry,
A moan, a sigh.

What am I?

It comes in on little cat’s feet,
Is neither sour, nor sweet.
Hovers in the air,
And then is not there.

Sweet tooth, ah shoot,
All gone, we all long,
For another piece.