From wanting to know straight to knowing quite outright
In an instant expelled from the little one’s mouth.
If it were allowed, I’d say, “How come I should know?
Go ask a rump ranger. Don’t bend over though!”
But that’s not the way. I would be leading him south.
He’s a sharp little one who puts up a good fight.

Now well out of the closet, the query takes wind
As absurd it seems as grape nuts made for stewing
If I answer him with not a smile on my face
Will my words take a form indicating disgrace?
There’s no answer to nonsense worth my pursuing.
I am on to you, boy. I will not be chagrined.

Go ask your darned father, and trust in his word.
Do not ask your mother; she may slap you silly
And send you to bed with a bar soap popsicle.
Don’t let your flamboyance put you in a pickle.
Keep your query pure and as white as a lily.
Do take care not to folly unless it’s preferred.