Answer:
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.
A shimmering field that reaches far. Yet it has no tracks, And is crossed without paths.
A man who was outside in the rain without an umbrella or hat didn’t get a single hair on his head wet. Why?
My first is a body of water. My second is me. My third came before. My fourth before all three. My fifth sounds like my first. My sixth is in a lake. Put all six together to make an animal that will keep you awake.
I saw a strange creature. Long, hard, and straight, thrusting into a round, dark opening. Preparing to discharge its load of lives. Puffing and squealing noises accompanied it, then a final screech as it slowed and stopped.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?