Answer:
The moon is my father. The sea is my mother. I have a million brothers. I die when I reach land
They can be harbored, but few hold water. You can nurse them, but only by holding them against someone else. You can carry them, but not with your arms. You can bury them, but not in the earth.
You throw away the outside and cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What did you eat?
My first is an insect; my second is a border; my whole puts the face in a tuneful disorder.
What do you use to hoe a row, slay a foe, and wring with woe?
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?