Little green bug you sit so still, could it be that you are thinking too? Resting at ease with vertical knees do thoughts rush to your head by gravitational force, or does your theses derive from another source? Little green bug you sit so still, could it be that you nothing to do? Too tired to move another inch - is it all too hard, nothing's a cinch? The legs are cramped, the mood is damp, and nowhere is better than here too camp. Little green bug is this true, or are you feeling a little blue? Melancholy has got you down, and you just don't feel like moving around? Or is it too cold, too hot - oh please tell what is too what? Little green bug you sit so still, could it be that you are taken ill? I'll put o the pot, right on the dot, and brew the tea. I'll make the soup and butter the bread, let me take care of thee. Little green bug you're still so still, could it be that you have no will? Have you breather your last breath, and sighed your last sigh? Oh little green bug tell me not that you have dies. For only if, had I knew, if I'd tried, there was nothing I would not do, to help you little green bug, stay alive. Mention the word, shout your command, and I would be ready to lend a hand. But little green bug you sit so still could it be that you are waiting until, I leave you alone, leave you in peace, to go about your day, to do as you please. Are you too kind to order me away, as I sit here and go about ruining your day? Oh little green bug you have done my head in, I can't think of what has put you in this silent and still mode of behaviour. I think that I too will sit still and observe this quiet flavour. Maybe you are still cause you like it so much. You are in no hurry and there is no rush. Little green bug I am sitting so still, oh how I can't begin to tell of how pleasant it feels.