There's something about colours
that sometimes makes me blue.
It isn't what they look like;
I always love their hue.
It isn't what they look like;
but more with what they do:
this thing about most colours,
that often makes me blue.
There's something about colours,
That has me seeing red;
whoever went and named them,
should have used rhymes instead ...
Nothing rhymes with turquoise!
Nothing rhymes with lilac.
Nothing rhymes with silver.
Nothing rhymes with burgundy!
Nothing rhymes with apricot.
Nothing rhymes with beige.
Nothing rhymes with aqua.
Not much rhymes with violet ... pilot? Dial it? File it? Tile it?
Not much rhymes with myrtle ... turtle, hurtle
Not much rhymes with yellow ... mellow, fellow, jello.
Very little rhymes with purple ...
Even less rhymes with orange ...
So here's the thing 'bout colours,
by now you probably know it:
they're perfect for a painter,
but they're painful for a poet!
(c) TJ McGowan, MrsMyth
