Answer:
I open wide and tight I shut, Sharp am I and paper-cut fingers too, so do take care, I'm good and bad, so best beware.
What is the thing which, once poured out, cannot be gathered again?
I am always hungry, I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.
What do you use to hoe a row, slay a foe, and wring with woe?
I have four wings but cannot fly. I never laugh and never cry. On the same spot always found, toiling away with little sound.
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?