I have a hook, but catch no fish. I have a loop, but tie no knot. We stick together, though we are not kin.

A Naval friend once told me that ships float, and ... sink, which I thought submarines were ships, but not to him.

I boast three stripes, a spiral sight, Yet hold no power, nor shed no light. I spin and twirl, a silent sign, Of snips and trims, leave you looking fine. What am I?

I'm hard and dense, at least in most, as your body is my host. Without me, you would be, a pile of the world's nastiest jelly.

An oddly named device with a purpose to serve. Held in one hand, I open toward the sky. Raised over your head, I keep you dry.