On the charts I remain number one,
this position can not be undone,
If i burn, you may get
Just a little bit wet.
In a Zeppelin, i am no fun.
What am i?

I am the blackchild of a white father,
a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven.
I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me,
even though there is no cause for grief,
and at once on my birth i am dissolved into air.
What am i?

What force and strength
can not get through,
I with a gentle touch can do,
and many in the streets would stand,
were i not as a friend in hand.
What am i?

From wood it’s made,
from string it’s made,
it floats upon the wind.
it’s made by one,
it’s made by many,
from hands and mouths it spins.
A score without a game,
a staff not for the lame,
with seven letters tamed,
with five letters named.
What is it?

I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky.
I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry.
What am i?

What can fall on water,
still does not get wet?