Answer:
Wind and cord combine, buzzing in the box. In all this we find, though to some the use is lost. What am I?
I have a ring but no fingers. I used to stay still all the time but nowadays I follow you around.
Part carbon part water I am poison to the fishes. Many falsely claim my name I am the pause that refreshes.
I am an instrument you can hear but cannot touch or see. What am I?
I cannot be bought, cannot be sold, even if I'm sometimes made of gold. What am I?
I go in hard, come out soft. Blow me hard and I'll make a pop. What am I?