Answer:
Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen.
As I walked along the path I saw something with four fingers and one thumb, but it was not flesh, fish, bone or fowl.
What can you put in a barrel to make it lighter?
What goes in the water red, and comes out black?
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?