You’d think to “know someone or something like a book” with the chance for eternal salvation for the price of your soul. You’d go so far to “grease somebody’s palms” with the Leprechaun’s pots of gold found at the ends of a rainbow. You’d try to “have somebody in the palm of your hand” with empty offers of unconditional and undying love. You’d attempt to “have somebody eating out of the palm of your hand” with empty coffers of worthless ducrats.
For the past few days, I see that your “itchy palms” are itching for someone “to cross your palm with silver” — someone who is nice enough to extend “a helping hand”; for “a bird in a hand is worth two in a bush“. I’d take this to mean that I’d be a fool to let the joys in my life slip away now by expecting something or someone better later on.
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