John McCullagh March 21, 2005
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He’s not two feet higher than a duck    He is very small in stature



He is past your thumb     [?]

He hears not at that ear   He suffers from selective deafness

He’s as crooked as a dog’s hind legs    He is untrustworthy

He’d buy ye in one field an’ sell ye in another

Tears runnin’ down their cheeks like beetles on an ant-hill

It’s as true as truth’s been for a long time

Born at the bladeing of the kail

He wusn’t behind the door when feet were given out He has outsize feet

There’s a hole in his thatch He’s got a slate missing   He’s not wise!  Or he’s losing his hair!

He’d talk the teeth off a saw

It fits ye like a hair in the well         [?]

He’s all to one side like the handle of a jug

All gab and guts like a young crow  Boastful from inexperience

She has an eye like a burnt hole in a blanket    She’d luk through ye!

She knows full well the length of his shoe  He’s got the feet walked off the poor girl and hasn’t proposed till her yit!

 

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