Riddles From The Book Of Exeter 91-95 by Riddle Genius Lyrics

91. My head was hammered into shape, scarred
by sharp chisels, scoured by a file.
I often gape at what faces me
when wearing rings, I thrust firmly
against a hard object; hollowed out
from behind, I strain at what stands between
my lord and his heart's desire at midnight.
Sometimes I pull back my nose,
guardian of gold, when my murderous lord
plans to steal treasures from those whom he
has disposed of, just as he pleases.


92. This Riddle did not survive



93. Untranslated :(

94. This Riddle did not survive :(


95. Untranslated :(