When All Is Said And Done

When All Is Said And Done  (in praise of the lesser-spotted cliché)

When all is said and done you know,

You need to make your point in a rush.

You can’t go all around of the houses,

And you mustn’t beat about the bush.

You’ve got to think outside the box:

I can almost hear your heart sinking.

Then you’ve got to cut to the chase,

And do some blue-sky thinking.

On the other hand, and if I were you,

I’m not sure how you feel,

But if you’re going to let sleeping dogs lie,

You’re going to need nerves of steel.

The truth of the matter is, of course,

That you can have too much of a good thing,

And we know that it won’t truly be over

Until we hear that fat lady sing.

Between you and I, pound to a penny,

If you were to remain in this garret,

You wouldn’t be over the moon,

But surely as sick as a parrot.

You’d be between a rock & a hard place,

As the words you needed to form.

The writing would be on the wall:

A case of any port in a storm.

We can’t throw out the baby with the bath-water:

The buck stops here, I think,

For you can surely lead a horse to water,

But you know you can’t force him to drink.

Let’s run the flag up the flagpole,

To see who salutes, if they’re able.

For to be honest with you,

I’d like to lay my cards on the table.

In the good old days, this was just the tip of the iceberg,

But you know that I won’t grovel,

For when you’ve got your back to wall,

You have to call a spade a bloody shovel.

Now I’ve opened up this whole can of worms,

The whole thing’s a bit of a drag.

For to coin an expression,

I’ve let this cat out of the bag.

For a platitude or an obvious remark

Played such a strong role in my youth,

And now at the drop of a hat,

A cliché’s become the moment of truth.

   

I can’t stay in cloud cuckoo land,

And I really know that I oughter.

I should try & bury this hatchet,

For blood is thicker than water.

For these pearls of wisdom have become run of the mill:

I must bite the bullet: that’s fine,

For if I’m to bring home the bacon,

I’ve got to get to the bottom line.

And now, at the end of the day,

I hope that you’ll find my poem witty.

If that’s not the terrier’s testicles -

Well – don’t that take the McVitie!!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016