There’s no tree but bears some fruit.
Skin your own buffalo.
You better throw a sop to the dogs.
Don’t squat on your spurs.
Any mule’s tail can catch cockleburs.
A drought usually ends with a flood.
If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.
A lean dog runs fast.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Let’s shoot out the lights.
We’ll paint the town and the front porch.
Let’s hallelujah the county.
Put the little pot in the big pot.
Throw your hat over the windmill.
I’ll be there with bells on.
I’ll wear my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.
He’s all gussied up.
Fat as a boardinghouse cat.
Fat as a town dog.
She’s warm in winter, shady in summer.
He don’t care what you call him as long as you call him to supper.
So big he looks like he ate his brother.
So big he has to sit down in shifts.
Big as Brewster County.Big as Dallas.
Big as a Brahma bull.
She’d rather shake than rattle.
He’s big enough to bear hunt with a branch.
He’s all spread out like a cold supper.
Wide as two ax handles.
He’ll eat anything that don’t eat him first.
Tight as Dick’s hatband.
Tight as a tick.
Tight as a clothesline.
Tight as a fiddle string.
Tight as wallpaper.
Tight as a wet boot.
Tight enough to raise a blister.
So tight he squeaks when he walks.
He’ll squeeze a nickel till the buffalo screams.
She has short arms and deep pockets.
He’s got a big hole in his screen door.
She’s one bubble off plumb.
She’s one brick shy of a load.
She’s two sandwiches short of a picnic.
He’s a few pickles short of a barrel.
There’s a light or two burned out on his string.
He’s missing a few buttons off his shirt.
The porch light’s on but no one’s home.
He’s lost his vertical hold.
He’s overdrawn at the memory bank.
I hear you clucking, but I can’t find your nest.
She’s got too many cobwebs in the attic.
Crazy as a bullbat.
Crazy as Larrabee’s calf.
They tried to hang him but the rope broke.
He could draw a pat hand from a stacked deck.
He always draws the best bull.
He’s riding a gravy train with biscuit wheels.
He could sit on the fence and the birds would feed him.
In tall cotton.
Running with the big dogs.
He didn’t come to town two to a mule.
She’s got more than she can say grace over.
So rich they can eat fried chicken all week long.
Rich enough to eat her laying hens.
If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn’t get to the Oklahoma line.
He’s so broke he’s busted all ten commandments.
Poor as a lizard-eating cat.
Hasn’t got a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out of.
So poor I had a tumbleweed as a pet.
I ate so many armadillos when I was young, I still roll up into a ball when hear a dog bark.
So poor we had to fertilize the sills before we could raise the windows.
Poor as sawmill rats.
He’s broke as a stick horse.
He’s too poor to pay attention.
So poor the wolf won’t even stop at their door.
So poor their Sunday supper is fried water.
Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash.
Hot as Hades.
Hot as the hinges (or hubs) of hell.
Hot as a depot stove.
Hot as a two-dollar pistol.
Hot as a two-dollar whore on the Fourth of July.
Hot as a billy goat in a pepper patch.
Hot as a summer revival.
Hot as a pot of neck bones.
Hot as a stolen tamale.
Hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
Hotter than whoopee in woolens.
Hotter than a honeymoon hotel.
Hotter than a preacher’s knee.
Hotter than a burning stump.
Hotter than blue blazes.
Hotter than a fur coat in Marfa.
So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.
This is hog-killing weather.
There’s only a strand of barbed wire between here and there, and it’s down (after a blizzard).
Cold as a well-digger’s knee.
Cold as a frosted frog.
Cold as an ex-wife’s heart.
Cold as a cast-iron commode.
Cold as a banker’s heart.
Cold as hell with the furnace out.
I feel lower than a gopher hole.
I feel so low I couldn’t jump off a dime.
She eats sorrow by the spoonful.
You look like you were sent for and couldn’t go.
Sad enough to bring a tear to a glass eye.
He looks like the cheese fell off his cracker.
She wears her bra backwards and it fits.
She’s frying size.
He’s knee-high to a grasshopper.
He’d have to stand up to look a rattler in the eye.
About as big as the little end of nothing.
Half as big as a minute.
No bigger than moles on a chigger.
Scrawny as Ace Reid cattle.
Nothing between the horns and hooves but hide.
Thin as a bar’s ear.
Thin as a gnat’s whisker.
Thin as store-bought thread.
Thin as Depression soup.
Thin as a fiddle string.
Thin as a rake and twice as sexy.
Flat as a fritter.
So skinny she has to stand twice to make a shadow.
So skinny you could give her a Big Red and use her as a thermometer.
So skinny she shades herself under the clothesline.
He’s such a liar he’d beat you senseless and tell God you fell off a horse.
He was born sorry.
He’s so low he’d steal the widow’s ax.
He’d steal his mama’s egg money.
He’d steal the flowers off his grandma’s grave.
He’d steal the nickels off a dead man’s eyes.
Bitter as gall.
Tough as nickel steak.
Tough as stewed skunk.
Tough as whang.