I have here a happy heptet of little riddles, or is it an octet?
His eyes were plucked out by the tip of a knife,
And his skin was shaved off with the blade.
He was then left over a roaring flame,
In a roiling cauldron to bathe.
When this was done, they whisked him away,
And stamped him down into his grave.
One less and I can't be any sooner,
Two less and I'll feel a little pain,
With a little space to sit, I can rest on a shelf,
So there's something to do with your brain.
I was conceived without a mother,
I was hatched without an egg,
I was executed without trial,
But that failed, so now I'm dead.
Soundless it screams,
Voiceless it utters,
And featherless flutters.
We're a tight-knit group, working in secret,
In plain sight, not that you'd think it,
We're hidden in spice, in mice and in rice,
But not in your semiconductor device.
I breeze through life, just like my name,
I have more than I need - again it's the same.
Sometimes I'm mistaken for an old man's bane,
But it's only my folly that brings him to shame.
Without one, you're already doing it now,
Without two, what you'll be up to soon,
A little tree spirit, vowel for a vowel,
With a different first step it's some food.