You May Also Like / View all maxioms
There's nobody at home
But Jumping Joan,
And father and mother and I.
There's nobody at home
But Jumping Joan,
And father and mother and I.
Estate agents. You can't live with them, you can't live with them. The first sign of these nasty purulent sores read more
Estate agents. You can't live with them, you can't live with them. The first sign of these nasty purulent sores appeared round about 1894. With their jangling keys, nasty suits, revolting beards, moustaches and tinted spectacles, estate agents roam the land causing perturbation and despair. If you try and kill them, you're put in prison: if you try and talk to them, you vomit. There's only one thing worse than an estate agent but at least that can be safely lanced, drained and surgically dressed. Estate agents. Love them or loathe them, you'd be mad not to loathe them.
Go big or go home. Because it's true. What do you have to lose?
Go big or go home. Because it's true. What do you have to lose?
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
What's the good of a home if you are never in it?
What's the good of a home if you are never in it?
The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
read more
The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O'er all the pleasant land.
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that
grovel--
Folks prefer in fact a hovel read more
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that
grovel--
Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls.
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to read more
And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to kiss me for I am going home. Nothing can stop me now.
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.
