Answer:
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
Runs over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night sits not alone, With long tongue hanging out, Resting at your feet until we go for a walk
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
I weaken all men for hours each day. I show you strange visions while you are away. I take you by night, by day take you back. None suffer to have me, but do from my lack.
They try to beat me, they try in vain. And when I win, I end the pain.
A cowboy rode into Friday. He stayed in town for three days and rode back on friday. How is that possible?