ALAS THE POOR CLICHÉ

Once a cliché was all there was

In the land of milk and honey                           

If the cat’s got your tongue,

A frog’s in your throat,

Down in the dumps

While crying out loud

With the screaming meemies

You’re really in a pickle.

 

While he’s sleeping like a log

Drunk as a skunk,

Seeing stars,

A pain in the neck,

Low man on the totem pole

Who speaks with a forked tongue,

He’s the one wearing pants,

The big man on campus.

 

 

Nan may re-work this some day.