If you don't have anything nice to say,
a rose still smells as sweet.
Don't sweep your problems under the rug
and also off my feet.
English does lend itself well to such nonsense
as malaphor, eggcorn, and mondegreen slips.
These are a few I have heard live, in person,
fluently falling from real strangers' lips.
Mairzy dotes and dozey dotes,
but little lambs eat crow.
Measure twice, cut your losses.
Speak of the devil you know.
I hope you'll forgive me some untidy meter,
for malaprops rarely align to a line.
(Chances are rhymes won't be too tidy, either,
but aren't we all friends here? I'm sure you'll be fine.)
The grass is greener on the hill you die on,
and a watched pot never calls the kettle black.
Count your blessings before they hatch.
I could do that with my eyes tied behind my back!
So maybe I lied that I've heard these in person;
no doubt a few sound too contrived to be true.
Allow me my pretext and pretense for versin',
and I'll grant the same sort of license to you.
Slow and steady catches the worm.
Two wrongs make one healthy, wealthy, and wise.
I'll have your head and eat it, too,
and pull the wool out from under your eyes.
If you're allergic to folly and fun,
taking exception to doggerel verse,
comfort yourself that this poem is done,
and truly it could have been quite a bit worse!
Iron Noder 2022, 2/30