Willow, Tit-Willow
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On a tree by the river a little tom-tit
Sang, "Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow,"
And I said to him, "Dickie-bird, why do you sit
Singing, 'Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow?'
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
"Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow."
He beat at his breast as he sat on the bough,
Singing, "Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow,"
And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow
Oh, willow, tit-willow, tit-willow
He sobbed as he sighed and a gurgle he gave
Then he threw himself into the Bowery wave
And an echo arose from the suicide's grave:
"Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow."
Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name
Isn't willow, tit-willow, tit-willow,
That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim
"Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow,"
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
"Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow."