In memory of the late and always great - I taught the weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry, And I showed the clouds how to cover a clear blue sky. And the pants I shed for that woman are gonna flood you, big river, And I'm gonna sit right here until I die.
That made me think of: On a tree by a river a little tom-tit Sang "pants, titpants, titpants!" And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit Singing 'pants, titpants, titpants'?" "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, pants, titpants, titpants!"