I can’t help it, I’m a dad joke lover With that said Why did the bicycle fall over?

A sonata, a reflection, a second job Start with a barnyard sound, followed by a compass’s direction, finishing with something that trips fantastic

I announce the coming, but have no voice. I signal the change, but make no choice.

I’m water that wiggles, I’m water that sways, I’m water that sneaks up in splishy splash ways. I’m not on a ride, but I still like to glide, What do you call me? I am the

Why shouldn’t you write with a broken pen? It’s . . .