DieterM
04-28-2012, 08:29 AM
In France, for five years, clothes were washed
with a detergent that had quashed
concurrent products with its claim,
“The cleaner cleaner – are you game?”
From Lille to Cannes, machines rotated
with the same powder, as we stated.
Until one day Madame Jeannine
from Strasbourg emptied her machine
and found a silk blouse that was smirched.
She checked the trousers, even searched
her wardrobes. And Jeannine, astounded,
discovered ads were rarely founded!
Her skirts were stained, her sheets a mess –
she had been had, to her disstress!
Oh was she furious! How could she
have trusted that darn company!
She called her friends, she called her mother
to make them check their sheets or other.
Little by little, nationwide,
buyers found out that ad had lied.
The “cleaner cleaner” would just cleanse
as clean as any other means.
Soon, the consumers’ strife grew louder,
with calls for better washing powder.
The manufacturers at first
decided to sit out the worst.
They shrugged as no one could forget
how much those Frenchies loved to fret.
At last, complaints and public trouble
made management forsake their bubble.
Thus, with new ads and marketing –
for washing is a serious thing! –
they said, “We’ll wash your white so white
that you’ll need sunglasses at night!
New formula! No stains left over!
Tested, in New York, Berlin, Dover!”
But wham! Another company –
the second in the industry –
that had been waiting for so long
for the occasion, joined the throng,
proclaiming “Do not trust the liars!
There’s a new powder for you buyers!”
With glossy adverts in the press,
allegedly to end the mess,
and lower prices they made sure,
to capture buyers, rich or poor.
A new detergent, even cheaper?
A dream for any penny-weeper!
So now, half of the crowd would buy
the new detergent for a try.
The others, out of loyalty,
clung to the old one faithfully.
The washing powder situation
threatened to cut in two the nation.
In France, each side would bear a grudge,
against the other but not budge.
The rich just shrugged; they didn’t care.
Of course, the average millionaire
would pay a maid to wash and launder
with any powder – they could squander.
And what was funny with that “war”:
no clothes were cleaner than before.
If you spilled red wine, ketchup, oil,
your napkin still might bear a spoil.
With any powder, old or newer,
cleanness depended on the viewer.
This poem coming to an end,
the moral we should understand?
That promises will only bind
those who believe them, deaf and blind.
In case your choice has made you prouder,
remember: it’s just washing powder.
with a detergent that had quashed
concurrent products with its claim,
“The cleaner cleaner – are you game?”
From Lille to Cannes, machines rotated
with the same powder, as we stated.
Until one day Madame Jeannine
from Strasbourg emptied her machine
and found a silk blouse that was smirched.
She checked the trousers, even searched
her wardrobes. And Jeannine, astounded,
discovered ads were rarely founded!
Her skirts were stained, her sheets a mess –
she had been had, to her disstress!
Oh was she furious! How could she
have trusted that darn company!
She called her friends, she called her mother
to make them check their sheets or other.
Little by little, nationwide,
buyers found out that ad had lied.
The “cleaner cleaner” would just cleanse
as clean as any other means.
Soon, the consumers’ strife grew louder,
with calls for better washing powder.
The manufacturers at first
decided to sit out the worst.
They shrugged as no one could forget
how much those Frenchies loved to fret.
At last, complaints and public trouble
made management forsake their bubble.
Thus, with new ads and marketing –
for washing is a serious thing! –
they said, “We’ll wash your white so white
that you’ll need sunglasses at night!
New formula! No stains left over!
Tested, in New York, Berlin, Dover!”
But wham! Another company –
the second in the industry –
that had been waiting for so long
for the occasion, joined the throng,
proclaiming “Do not trust the liars!
There’s a new powder for you buyers!”
With glossy adverts in the press,
allegedly to end the mess,
and lower prices they made sure,
to capture buyers, rich or poor.
A new detergent, even cheaper?
A dream for any penny-weeper!
So now, half of the crowd would buy
the new detergent for a try.
The others, out of loyalty,
clung to the old one faithfully.
The washing powder situation
threatened to cut in two the nation.
In France, each side would bear a grudge,
against the other but not budge.
The rich just shrugged; they didn’t care.
Of course, the average millionaire
would pay a maid to wash and launder
with any powder – they could squander.
And what was funny with that “war”:
no clothes were cleaner than before.
If you spilled red wine, ketchup, oil,
your napkin still might bear a spoil.
With any powder, old or newer,
cleanness depended on the viewer.
This poem coming to an end,
the moral we should understand?
That promises will only bind
those who believe them, deaf and blind.
In case your choice has made you prouder,
remember: it’s just washing powder.