On a tree by a river, a little tomtit
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.
Well, he slapped at his chest as he
sat on that bough,
singing willow, tit willow, tit willow.
And a cold perspiration be
spangled his brow,
willow, tit willow, tit willow.
He sobbed and he sighed
and a gurgle he gave
Then he plunged himself
into the billowy wave
And an echo arose from
his watery grave.
Willow, t 'willow, t 'willow
Now I feel just as sure
as I'm sure that my name
Isn't
Willow, t 'willow,
Rolf
Willow
That t 'was blighted
affection that made him exclaim
Willow, tit, willow, tit, willow
And if you remain callous and obstinate,
I I shall perish as he did,
and you will know why
Though I probably shall
not exclaim as I die
Tid willow, tid willow, tid willow.