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.