Its's a gas

Bounding over one's steps,

Not far falls a tree with apples,

With the worm that gets the bird early

Here a bush in the hand is worth two birds,

At the end one comes to the road

Where the other is greener than the side of grass

Here one can cure an ounce of prevention with a pound of worth,

The rope at my end,

Like haystacks finding needles, and wind in the farts

In time nine saves a stich

And a pot of gold ends with a rainbow