In an alternative view, the earth pushes you away yet pulls you right back.

I make perfect pours, I prevent little spills, I send things downward with ease. I'm a little spider, and weave a neat web, am often referred to as these.

Not everyone can hear me, but the ones who do will hear this music for the entirety of their lives

The waves of land are what I be, A smaller mountain, as you can see. I might have been in your childhood, Where you might have rolled down me, like wood.

In fields I stand both day and night, A straw guardian dressed up for a fright. My first five what happens when the bejesus are removed from you, My last four the bird I am meant to do it to.