Answer:
Turns us on our backs, and open up our stomachs. You will be the wisest of men though at start a lummox.
I am mother and father, but never birth or nurse. I'm rarely still, but I never wander.
It flies when it's on and floats coming off.
My first is an insect; my second is a border; my whole puts the face in a tuneful disorder.
Who is it that rows quickly with four oars, but never comes out from under his own roof?
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?