Answer:
What runs around all day. Then lies under the bed. With its tongue hanging out?
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.
A horrid monster hides from the day, with many legs and many eyes. With silver chains it catches prey. And eats it all before it dies. Yet in every cottage does it stay. And every castle beneath the sky.
What is the heart of many risks, has a heart, but is not a living being?
What has wings, but can not fly. Is enclosed, but can outside also lie. Can open itself up, or close itself away. Is the place of kings and queens and doggerel of every means. What is it upon which I stand? Which can lead us to different lands.
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.