There is "The Ballad of the Shape of Things" whose key verse is,

"Rectangular is the hotel door, my true love tried to sneak through
rectangular is the transom over which I had to peep through,
rectangular is the hotel room I enter angrily,
and, rectangular is the wooden box
where lies my love 'neath the golden phlox
they say he died of the chicken pox...
in part I must agree...one chick too many had he."

Freightdawg