The Smigglyput

What of a what is a smigglyput?

Is it purple or yellow or gray?

Does it say “pokypoo” or “balooglemaroo”?

Oh what does a smigglyput say?
And where of a where is a smigglyput?

Yes, where on the Earth does it hide?

Is it inside my shoe or my plastic kazoo?

Is it under the dress of the bride?

And who of a who is a smigglyput?

Is it boastful or angry or shy?

Is it wise like the owl? Does it giggle or scowl?

Oh what makes a smigglyput cry?

And when of a when is a smigglyput?

Is it always or never or now?

Is it when the bell rings, or the fat lady sings?

Is it when little Jack sold the cow?
And why of a why is a smigglyput?

‘Cuz of science, religion or art?

“I think, therefore I smigglyput.”

What’s that mean, eh, Descartes?

And how of a how is a smigglyput?

Is it stirred, shaken, blended or poured?

I only know this of the smigglyput:

It only shows up when you’re bored.