On a tree by a river a little tom-tit
Sang "Willow, tit willow, tit willow"
And I said to him, "Dicky-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
"Oh, 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
"Oh, 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
"Oh, willow, tit willow, tit willow"