Answer:
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
I hop around and deliver eggs at Easter.
My flavors ranges from strawberry to toe.
I have hands but cannot clap
I produce wool and spit a lot
Strip the skin under my skin, and my flesh you'll reveal. It tastes sweet and tart, now throw out the peel. What is it?