Answer:
You seek it out, when your hunger is ripe. It sits on four legs, and smokes a pipe.
A dagger thrust at my own heart, dictates the way I'm swayed. Left I stand, and right I yield, to the twisting of the blade.
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
I am round as a bowl, deep as a tub, but all the world's water couldn't fill me up.
The land was white the seed was black it'll take a good scholar to riddle me that. What is it?
I have feet on my head