Answer:
Left to right Iām quite bright. Right to left I might bite.
By Moon or by Sun, I shall be found. Yet I am undone, if there's no light around.
Who is it that rows quickly with four oars, but never comes out from under his own roof?
What can be filled with empty hands?
It holds no blessings in disguise. Its rhymes are aimed at your demise, it's cast only to ruin, Whatever you are doin'.
Walk on the living, they don't even mumble. Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble.