I toll for kings and common men, I sing at six, then noon again. I wake the world, I mourn the dead, a voice of metal, overhead.

I live on a neck but I'm not a noose, I mark where fingers find their use. Guitarists know me, I’m part of the set, but worry too much, and my name you'll regret. What am I?

I am often called a type of legume, but please do not consume. I am often used to store and to protect objects, and my chemical compound is quite complex.

Slippery when cool, sticky when hot. I might hold a strand or i might pull a lot. I add an invisible coat, a lustre to the plain. I might drip with desire, giving pleasure from my pain.

Grapefruit of the earth, dull and gray; when cut wide are treasures displayed A chest without hinge, key or lock; Hidden within, are treasures of rock