Answer:
Every night I'm told what to do, and each morning I do what I'm told. But I still don't escape your scold. What am I?
You throw me away, I find my way back. Traditionally, I'm wooden with an arch in my back. What am I?
Drop me and the world will shatter. You can always find me where you empty your bladder.
What kind of room has no doors or windows?
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?
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.