Classic Riddles

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I have four of these, With matching extremities. They can do many things, And hardly ever bring me pain. Unless I stick them with a pin, Or burn them sometimes when… What is it that I can wiggle at will? And use in other means still?
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Whether old Homer tippled wine or beer, Julep or cider, history is not clear; But plain it is-the bard, though want to roam, But for one liquid, never had left home. What is it?
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Why ought a fisherman to be very wealthy?
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Why is swearing like an old coat?
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My head and tail both equal are, My middle slender as a bee. Whether I stand on head or heel Is quite the same to you or me. But if my head should be cut off, The matter’s true, though passing strange Directly I to nothing change. What Am I?
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Why is a small horse like a young musk-melon?
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