Answer:
In your fire you hear me scream creaking and whining yet I am dead before you lay me in your hearth.
I tremble at each breath of air and yet can heaviest burdens bear.
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
You may enter, but you may not come in. I have space, but no room, I have keys, but open no lock. What am I?
I help engines spin and pants stay up. What am I?
I met a man on the London bridge, he tipped his hat and drew his name, in this riddle I told you his name. What is it?