That's it, get out! I'm giving you the boot!
The old heave-ho, as sailors used to say.
I'm stuffing you back down the garbage chute
you climbed up from. I'm calling it a day.
Like last week's papers, baby, you're old news.
Like birds that squawk too much I set you free.
You're out like my old pair of mud-caked shoes.
I'm pushing the ejector button, see?
You're welcome as mosquitoes, gnats, and flies,
or half a worm baked in an apple pie.
So buzz the hell on off now, if you please,
and let this gesture serve as my goodbye.
Auf Wiedersehen, goodbye, and fare the well;
on second thought, strike that. You go to hell.