Thursday, August 06, 2009

Mixed metaphor poem

Or, Swine Flu over the Cuckoo's Nest

It's raining pigs with wings out there:
They're flying in the face
Of the wrong tree they are barking up:
They've lost the human race.
If you stand upon your morals,
Then you take it lying down.
So take the matter quietly while
You shout it round the town.

You might save the baker's dozen,
But then, bad luck comes in threes.
So if you lie with sleeping dogs,
Your cat might get the cheese.
Remember, look before you speak,
And think before you leap:
Stay on the flat and narrow road,
Although the hill is steep.

Don't count your ugly ducklings 'til
The golden eggs are cooked.
Don't pull the giant catch in
Until the goose is hooked.
Too many chefs make light work,
But always think of home:
And though you may stray far away,
All toads lead to Rome.


Shelley said...

You know, keep this up and I might learn to like poetry.

Steve said...

I was going to try to express my approval with a mixed metaphor, but I ran out of time, which we all know it does fly when you have one in your hand. (Someone can come up with something better.)

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

To mix metaphors is to tread lightly on dangerous waters. (P.S., you're my hero.)

TimT said...

We can all be heroes, if we stand firm and rise to the occasion until we're truly in the swim of things. And thank you.

Dan the VespaMan said...

I like it.

the squeaky goose gets the golden grease.

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