Before TV, I entertained you, I’m often listened to by families or people alone, I may be no surfer, But I do have control over the waves.

Romans trusted me with mighty weight, while cats display me in an agitated state.

I’m painted on walls, not on paper you know, I’m old and I’m dry, but my colors still glow. I show saints or stories from long, long ago. What kind of painting am I? Do you know?

I am a nightmare stitched from three, A walking, breathing tapestry. A lion's roar, a serpent's bite, A goat's head staring in the night. Born of myth and breathing flame, Can you guess my ancient name?

I do not speak, yet troops obey, My metal voice can lead the way. No strings or keys are found on me, Just breath and brass for all to see.