Boston Sunday Globe (June 24, 1904), p. 33:

“That pretty girl and remarkably talented comedienne, Kittie Bingham, is to remain for another week [at the Howard Atheneum theater]. She will sing ‘Willie the Weeper,’ a new song; ‘Hiawatha,’ and a new ballad.”

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Galveston Daily News (Apr. 9, 1911), p. 6:

                           WILLIE THE WEEPER         
                        (The Hop-Fiend’s Song)

There was a young man named Willie the Weeper,
Made his living as a Chimney Sweeper,

Had the hop habit, and he had it bad.
Listen. I will tell you about a dream he had.

Went to the Chink’s joint the other night,
Where he knew the lights were always shining bright,

He called in the Chink and ordered a toy of hop,
Started into smoking and he thought he never would stop.

He rolled and he smoked about a dozen pills,
Said it drove away all his pains and ills;

Laying on his hip, he then fell asleep,
Dreamed he was sailing on the ocean deep.

Started playing poker when he left this land,
Win a million dollars on the very first hand.

Came to a place they call Siam,
Rubbed his nose and said, “I wonder where I am.”

From the king of Siam he won a million more;
Then he went to Monte Carlo ‘cause the king got sore.

While at Monte Carlo, he played ro’lett,
Wins every penny and couldn’t make a bet.

When he found that all the banks were broke,
He bought a million dollars’ worth of hop to smoke.

He said that he would lead a life free from toil,
Bought a million dollars’ worth of peanut oil.

Stabbed himself with an inchee gow,
Died with his head on a suee pow.

Willie awoke, his hop had vanished, his dreams were o’er,
He went to sweeping chimneys, as he did before.

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Louis J. Beck, New York’s Chinatown (N.Y.: Bohemia Pubishing Co., 1898), pp. 164-165:

                                    
                         A HOP FIEND'S DREAM.

A hop fiend went on a weary stroll,
In search of a friend who a pill could roll.
He had not smoked for a whole long day,
He was "barred" from the joints - for he could not pay.

He strolled along with a yen-yen bad,
Till he found a guy who some money had;
He touched him quick and off he flew
To "cop" the hop from the Chink's bamboo.

He smoked, and smoked, and smoked away,
And thought of the riches he'd have some day.
He thought of his friends and roasted all;
For a fiend who won't roast is no fiend at all.

He finally into a sweet dream fell,
And dreamed of everything - all but Hell.
He dreamed sweet dreams of untold wealth,
And of all the dough he could cop by stealth.

He dreamed of diamonds and riches rare,
And of all the suckers he could ensnare.
He was worth a million in nickels and dimes,
And counted them over a thousand times .

He owned houses and lots, cattle and sheep,
And a million ships that sailed on the deep.
He was king of the world, whom all obeyed,
And was in the most gorgeous garb arrayed.

He had a thousand wives, so pretty and rare,
All dressed in the finest, with golden hair.
He'd a billion servants, who stood at his call—
For Aladdin's palace wasn't in it at all.

He kept on dreaming, until he awoke,
Only to find he had run out of dope.

                               ---"Yen Shee Gow."