Dogs famously do it, Humans wear it, For style or through misuse, I become holy.

I have legs but don't walk I hold you steady

A word I know, six letters it contains, remove one letter and Twelve remains. What is it?

Fierce warrior of time, spinning tales anew, Grooves of battle scars, songs of strength so true. Round and black, it conquers sound's endless night, An epic of sound, forged in circular might.

A festive branch where tradition meets, beneath which lips often greet. In this leafy nook, a seasonal chance for a peck awaits.