Answer:
I bind it and it walks. I loose it and it stops.
Just head and foot yet never tires of dancing.
You seek it out, when your hunger is ripe. It sits on four legs, and smokes a pipe.
I grow for a surface, even if you cut me. I continue to grow even after death.
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?