Lyrics
Friends. May I have your attention, please,
attention. Please
I can deal with the trouble, friends, with a wave of my hand
This very hand
Please observe me if you will
I'm Professor Harold Hill
And I'm here to organize River City's boys' band.
Oh think, my friends, how could any pool table ever hope to compete with a gold trombone?
Rah rah, rah da da dat da, rah, rah
Remember, my friends, what a handful of trumpet players
Did to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho
Old billiard parlor walls come-a tumbling down!
Well, a band'll do it, my friends
Oh yes, I said a boys' band, do ya hear me?
I said River City's gotta have a boys' band,
And I mean she needs it today!
While Professor Harold Hill's on hand
River City's gonna have her boys' band
And sure as the Lord made little green apples
And that band's gonna be in uniform
Johnny, Willy, Teddy, Fred
And you'll see the glitter of crashing cymbals
And you'll hear the thunder of rolling drums
And the shimmer of trumpets, tum ta da!
And you'll feel something akin to the electric thrill I once enjoyed
When Gilmore, Pat Conway, the great Creator
W.C. Handy, and John Philip Sousa
All came to town on the very same historic day
Seventy-six trombones led the big parade
With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand.
They were followed by rows and rows
Of the finest virtuosos,
The cream of every famous band.
Seventy-six trombones caught the morning sun
With a hundred and ten cornets right behind.
There were more than a thousand reeds
Springin' up like weeds,
There were horns of every shape and kind.
There were copper-bottom timpani in horse platoons
Thundering, thundering, all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons,
Each bassoon having its big fat say.
There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery
Thundering, thundering, louder than before.
Clarinets of every size,
And trumpeters who'd improvise
A full octave higher than the score!
(Instrumental Break)
Seventy-six trombones, like a big parade
One hundred and ten cornets blazed away
And my honesty took my place as the one and only base, and I own part up and down the square.
Seventy six trombones is the counterpoint.
One hundred and ten cornets blazed away
And the rhythm of the Harch harch harch
All the kids began to march
and they marching still right todayοΌοΌ
attention. Please
I can deal with the trouble, friends, with a wave of my hand
This very hand
Please observe me if you will
I'm Professor Harold Hill
And I'm here to organize River City's boys' band.
Oh think, my friends, how could any pool table ever hope to compete with a gold trombone?
Rah rah, rah da da dat da, rah, rah
Remember, my friends, what a handful of trumpet players
Did to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho
Old billiard parlor walls come-a tumbling down!
Well, a band'll do it, my friends
Oh yes, I said a boys' band, do ya hear me?
I said River City's gotta have a boys' band,
And I mean she needs it today!
While Professor Harold Hill's on hand
River City's gonna have her boys' band
And sure as the Lord made little green apples
And that band's gonna be in uniform
Johnny, Willy, Teddy, Fred
And you'll see the glitter of crashing cymbals
And you'll hear the thunder of rolling drums
And the shimmer of trumpets, tum ta da!
And you'll feel something akin to the electric thrill I once enjoyed
When Gilmore, Pat Conway, the great Creator
W.C. Handy, and John Philip Sousa
All came to town on the very same historic day
Seventy-six trombones led the big parade
With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand.
They were followed by rows and rows
Of the finest virtuosos,
The cream of every famous band.
Seventy-six trombones caught the morning sun
With a hundred and ten cornets right behind.
There were more than a thousand reeds
Springin' up like weeds,
There were horns of every shape and kind.
There were copper-bottom timpani in horse platoons
Thundering, thundering, all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons,
Each bassoon having its big fat say.
There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery
Thundering, thundering, louder than before.
Clarinets of every size,
And trumpeters who'd improvise
A full octave higher than the score!
(Instrumental Break)
Seventy-six trombones, like a big parade
One hundred and ten cornets blazed away
And my honesty took my place as the one and only base, and I own part up and down the square.
Seventy six trombones is the counterpoint.
One hundred and ten cornets blazed away
And the rhythm of the Harch harch harch
All the kids began to march
and they marching still right todayοΌοΌ