Answer:
Men seize it from its home, tear apart its flesh, drink the sweet blood, then cast its skin aside.
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.
I'm a long, greenยญ-skinned fruit with watery flesh, usually eaten raw in salads or pickled.
My first is snapping, snarling, growling, My second's industrious, romping, and prowling. Higgledy piggledy Here we lie, picked and plucked, and put in a pie.
Before crust hardens.
Of no use to one, Bliss to two. Men lie for it. The babyโs right,