My Mother used to sing this to us. She’s from Kingston, Ohio and surely learned this song from summer camp or another rural midwesterner activity in the 40’s.   

WILLY
How well do I remember the day when Willy died
it was early one bright September morn’.
The cows were swarming sweetly and the birds were making hay ,
and the sun and moon were shining dark and bright.
It was the 23rd of May when our Willy passed away .
He died harder than he’d ever died before.
He was sitting on a chair, but he didn’t like it there.
So he got up and he sat up on the floor.
You could see that he was dying by the color of his breath.
You could see the blossom nipping in the bud.
And the doctor said “The only way to save our boy from death
was to stop the circulation of his blood.”
So we gently bathed his head in a pot of boiling lead,
and we laid our darling Willy down to rest.
But it surely was a shame for that night the burglars came,
and they stoled the mustard plaster o? his chest.
So we filled him up with glue in hopes we’d bring him to,
but we only brought him eight or nine or ten.
And he turned up on his side, and he blew his nose and died,
And he sneezed and blew his nose and died again.
No more upon the mat will he play with pussy cat.
No more between his teeth he’ll hold her tail.
No more upon the red-hot grate he’ll rub her little nose.
For our darling little Willy’s kicked the pail.