You see, Bia, my dear, alone on the TV set,
Kitt sits in thought, quiet as can be yet.
No play today, no milk, no chase,
still as a sphinx in his place,
he wonders, with a puzzled face:
Why does granny have a grandpa by her side?
Why does grandpa wear a beard so wide?
How does the spurred rooster bring the day?
Why is the sun yellow, not gray?
Why does grass grow in the yard to play?
How does the duck fly up so high?
Why is the egg round, not square, oh my?
Why is milk sweet, and never salty — why?
"Why does his little head ask so and so,
has he been out in the yard, do you know?"
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