Puce

“Oh, what’s the use,” says puce
With a more or less colorless sigh
That you can hear from the bottom’s low
To the top of most high
From this edge of spectrum
To that

What’s the use, what’s the use, what’s the use
A rant of the chant
So silly of puce
As silly, I’d say, oh sillier still
Than the silliest silly of the silliest goose

Here’s the trouble with puce:
Puce is a victim of loose thinking
Thinks poetry pays!
No one these days pays the least attention
To things poetic
Ain’t got no time to waste on rhyme
But puce doesn’t know this
Could be a screw loose in puce
Oh well, what’s the use?