Answer:
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?
It is by nature, soft as silk; A puffy cloud, white as milk; Snow tops this tropical crop; The dirtiest part of a mop
They can float and tickle, but their sound is rarely heard unless you're a pillow or bird. What are they?
I go around in circles, but always straight ahead. Never complain, no matter where I am led.
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.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?