Yes men say,
As they humble themselves every day,
"You're a genius, boss," noses all way
Up in the breach that's mauve-taupe-gray.

Suckup spree. . .
They kiss @ss, these men, effusively;
They're as shallow as the Salton Sea.
Up in the vent so gushingly.

Guys who gotta show: "I'm a ho': It's a good play.
One must go along. . .get along." Those yes men say-ay-ay-ay.

Yes man say,
"Love, boss, your ideas; they will pay.
[Kiss @ss. . .rather face," sotto voce.]
"Oh, I believe in all you say!"

Guys who have to go where there's cloacal outlay.
My, their tongues are long,
And they're pronged for dreck-gourmet-et-et-et.

Dreck gourmets. . .
Lunch will make 'em queasy, but it pays
To feed with face in grotto mauve-gray,
Nose in the breach: a yes man's day.

Yum, yum, yum, strum bung with tongue.