Answer:
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
With sharp edged wit and pointed poise. It can settle disputes without making a noise.
Long and slinky like a trout, never sings till it's guts come out.
What liquid can contain the soul?
Metal or bone I may be, many teeth I have and always bared. Yet my bite harms no one. And ladies delight in my touch.
A cowboy rode into Friday. He stayed in town for three days and rode back on friday. How is that possible?