Answer:
Squeeze me and I cry tears as red as flesh, but my heart is made of stone. What am I?
Where do fish keep their money?
What room do ghosts avoid?
What goes through towns and over hills but never moves?
I ask no questions, but receive a lot of answers. 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.