Answer:
The more holes you cover the lower it goes.
Both punishment and sweet reward, It will befall both fool and lord. It is a spiritual scoreboard, Your every deed it does record.
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?
At first I am a yellow weed in the lawn, and then the wind blows, and my white feathers are gone. What am I?
Although my cow is dead, I still beat her. What a racket she makes!
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?