On a tree by a river
a little tom-tit
sang "Willow,
titwillow, titwillow!"
And I said to him
"Dicky-bird
why do you sit
singing willow,
titwillow, titwillow?"
"Is it weakness of
intellect birdie?"
I cried
"Or a rather tough worm
in your little inside?"
With a shake of his
poor little head
he replied
"Oh willow, titwillow,
titwillow!"
He slapp'd at his chest
as he sat on that bough
singing "Willow, titwillow,
titwillow!"
And a cold perspiration
bespangled his brow
oh, willow, titwillow,
titwillow!
He sobbed and he sighed
and a gurgle he gave
then he plunged himself
into the billowy wave
And an echo arose
from the suicide's grave
"Oh, willow, titwillow,
titwillow!"
Now I feel just as sure
as I'm sure that my name
isn't willow, titwillow,
titwillow
That t'was blighted
affection
that made him exclaim
"Oh, willow, titwillow,
titwillow!"
And if you remain callous
and obdurate, I
shall perish as he did
and you will know why
Though I probably
shall not exclaim
as I die
"Oh willow,
titwillow, titwillow!"