Answer:
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.
It stands on one leg with its heart in its head. What is it?
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?
What nut has a hole and is squishy?
You’ll find me in a soup, in a burger, in a pizza, I am green when raw and red when ripened and ready to become a condiment.
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?