You’re the bee’s knees
What more can I say?

You’re the bee’s knees
And all that entails, okay?

Do you know what I’m getting at?
About bees, knees and all that?

You’re the segmented leg joints of hive-building, pollen-collecting, nectar-producing, flying insects, furry and fat
Smaller than a raven, but bigger than a gnat.

You’re the knees of the bee
I’ll re-phrase it, if I may.

The wee bees need their knees, you see?
Nevermind.  Let me put it this way:

You’re the bee’s knees
You’re the pod’s peas

You’re the pizza’s cheeze
You’re the pepper’s sneeze

You’re the brook’s trout
You’re the bean’s sprout

You’re the forest’s trees
You’re the ocean’s breeze

You’re the whale’s fluke
You’re the moose’s toque

You’re the maple’s keys
You’re the snowflake’s freeze

You’re the bobcat’s meow
You’re the eagle’s eyebrow

You’re the grizzly’s growl
You’re the wolf pack’s howl

You’re the triangle’s threes
You’re the square’s equal degrees

You’re the circle’s infinity
You’re everything to me.

What’s my point?  It clearly can’t be missed.
What I’m saying, merely, is just this:

You’re the bee’s knees.
Everyone agrees.

Or, what I could have said instead
It’s so obvious, it’s funny
You’re the best thing since sliced bread
With peanut butter and honey.