It’s above the sewer, If you remove the last letter. You could call it Gouda-er, But sounds much better. You could even ask Shredder.

I sing without a living voice, in wind or touch I make my noise. I ring out soft, then fade in time, a gentle sound both clear and fine. I mark a moment or bring some peace, what simple tone is this you hear

I wear a suit of gold and red, With brilliant thoughts inside my head. I snapped my fingers, saved the day, And turned the darkest threat away.

I spin and churn, a watery grave, Where ships may falter, and sailors rave. A vortex of power, I draw all near, What am I, that inspires such fear?

If yellow, a mean fellow If leather, lasts forever If it's hot, you'd better not If on book, it's a good look