Upon my back, you safely glide, Walking paths with every stride. Though I wear out, I never tire, Step inside, I'm your foot's squire.

I ramble on without a pair of legs, A hammer of the gods with flaming heart. I’m full of nothing, still, the whole world begs To watch my stairway tear the sky apart.

Knives, swords, razors, and human shoulders all have one

In the barnyard, you'll find me among the straw, an older tool with pointed claw, helping gather what the farmer did sow, Or, paired with a torch, scaring off some common foes

Is this tennis? Is this noise? I don't know, you tell me what my identity is!