Infant , fair, ethereal,
Lying in your crib,
Scattering your cereal
All about your bib,
Clear your language may be
To your doting ma,
But tell me, darling baby,
What you mean by “Blah?”

When you try to swallow
Everything you find,
I, in part, can follow
The working of your mind.
I can sympathize, too,
When you weep and sob,
But, baby, put me wise to
What you mean by “Blob.”

When your mother proudly
Claims to figure out
What you mean, I loudly
Register a doubt.
Though a hopeless dub, I
Find your meaning hid.
When you murmur “Glub” I
Fail to get you, kid.