Answer:
Men seize it from its home, tear apart its flesh, drink the sweet blood, then cast its skin aside.
The leaves are on the fruit, the fruit on the leaves. What is it?
The sun bakes them, The hand breaks them, The foot treads on them, And the mouth tastes them. What are they?
Give it a toss, and it's ready, but not until it's dressed. What is it?
The sun bakes them, The hand breaks them, The foot treads them, The mouth tastes them.
If itβs information you seek, come and see me. If itβs pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. What am I?