Answer:
When it comes in, From sea to shore, Twenty paces you'll see, No less, no more.
I wear a red robe, with staff in hand, and a stone in my throat.
Three little letters. A paradox to some. The worse that it is, the better it becomes.
The sun bakes them, the hand breaks them, the foot treads on them, and the mouth tastes them.
Gets rid of bad ones, short and tall. Tightens when used, one size fits all.
I have two eyes in the front and a lot of eyes on my tail