Answer:
Without a bridle, or a saddle, across a thing I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see. What am I?
I am filled with garb the price is free. Just return what you don't need.
What goes up and down but does not move?
In buckles or lace, I help set the pace. The farther you go, the thinner I grow. What am I?
Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust. What am I?
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.