On a tree by a river a dickybird lit,
Singing Willow, titwillow, titwillow;
And I said to him, "Dickybird, why do you sit
And sing Willow, titwillow, titwillow?
Is it weakness of intellect, birdy," 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!"

(now there's a verse about how the bird commits suicide by throwing himself into the watery something-or-other.)

Now I'm sure--just as sure as I'm sure that my name
Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow--
That 'twas love unrequited which 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!"

As a woman I can tell you that, as a pick-up line this sucks. One wonders how the Victorians/Edwardians managed to reproduce at all.
BUT--as audience at The Mikado, this rates as one of the great pieces of music of all time. It brings me to a point of pleasure akin to Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, Beethoven's Ode to Joy, a really well-harmonized version of Amazing Grace or Keep On the Sunny Side (especially a sing-along version of either). As noted in a previous thread, Three Little Maids From School ain't no slouch, either. Tw