Oh we knew that he was dyin' from the color of his breath
And the flowers,they were droopin' in the mud
And the doctor said to save our darling child from his death
We must stop the circulation of his blood
So we filled his head with glue,which we hoped would fill him through
And we lay our darling Willie down to rest
But the burglars came that night came by gosh without a light
and they stole the mustard plaster off his chest
Oh no more upon the mat
Will he play with pussycat
No more will he playfully bite her tail
No more will he wipe his nose on the red hot kitchen stove
For our darling brother Willie's kicked the pail

My mother used to sing this song. She grew up in Michigan and Ohio in the 1930s. I have no idea where she heard it!