I think that I know. Yep, a human took their doormat away. It pulled out the cheese and dug out the clay. It turned some bright knobs on top of the thing, It strummed on the wires and started to sing. The platypuses thought, It doesn't slice cheese, Shoot arrows, jail snails, clean flippers with ease.
Guitars make music.
I wonder, they thought. The he or the she seemed to sing to the air, At least to Someone who didn't seem there. I will praise You, God, I'm wonderfully made. To love and adore You all of my days, Your wonderful works are worthy of song, From morning to night and all the day long. To write to Mr. Platypus . .