The French much have told me to give my tongue to the cat, this prompt was so hard.
But I have long teeth. No hair in my hand. I do things with all ten of my fingers.
I’ll cut the great in two before I start running circles in the semolina.
It’s all Greek (or French) to me anyway. Before I have one foot in the grave, or smell of fir, I’d better bow out of this race.
Maybe I have, after all, given my tongue to the cat.