While the wind winds, From a tree I'm collected. One staves off the idea of going bigger, by arcane scholars I'm rarely neglected. The charlatan's is black and capped with white, tap tap Alakazam! Take the eyes of the third and fourth words, Make them A, you'll know what I am.

Without my first, I am everything. Add an -e and I become a sentient electronic thing. My last two are twins, sure as can be, and to hold your roof, you need at least three of me.

At night my children stab me, That's how I make their bed, Some look out with hollow eyes, The others have large heads, My children have two serpents: One flat, one thin I'm told, One stretches and squeezes to size things up, The other binds and holds.

A tool of three letters, though you can use two, The simplest of levers, And has a wedge, too.

Add a Y, it’s a Tribe Called Quest song. Change my first letter to S, it’s the leftovers after a fire. Unchanged, my plural is made for walking.