infernal tootling

"Thanks for bringing out the bin," said the Mammy.
I looked up from my thermo nuclear physics. (Southpark - Ed note.)
"I've grown quite fond of the bin," sez I with only the merest hint of irony. "I'm starting to talk to it. Sometimes I even sing to it."
This brief spiel gave me the perfect excuse to burst into song.
"I talk to the bin," warbled I, "but it doesn't listen to me."
The Mammy's face was a study.
Seamlessly changing tempo and parodies I continued in the same vein.
"Don't tell the trees green bin.
Because the trees don't need to know.
Oh whispering bin, the trees don't need to know."
Thank heavens bold readers, thank heavens I say, that after all these years, I've finally learned how to sing...