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.
This for is a baked dish of fruit, or meat and vegetables, typically with a top and base of pastry.
I come out of the earth, I am sold in the market. He who buys me cuts my tail, takes off my suit of silk, and weeps beside me when I am dead.
What traps a star in its belly but can be held in your hand?
Green on the outside but red and black inside. I am food but mostly liquid. What am I?
What is always coming but never arrives?