Answer:
I have a neck but no head. I have a body but no arm. I have a bottom but no leg.
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer's cramp
What can't you see, hear or feel, until its too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
Runs smoother than any rhyme, loves to fall but cannot climb.
This food is a tortilla filled with cheese and sometimes chicken before being heated or cooked.