Rock Island
1st Salesman
Cash for the merchandise, cash for the button hooks
3rd Salesman
Cash for the cotton goods, cash for the hard goods
1st Salesman
Cash for the fancy goods
2nd Salesman
Cash for the noggins and the piggins and the frikins
3rd Salesman
Cash for the hogshead, cask and demijohn. Cash for
the crackers and the pickles and the flypaper.
4th Salesman
Look whatayatalk, whatayatalk, whatayatalk,
whatayatalk, whatayatalk?
5th Salesman
Wheredayagitit?
4th Salesman
Whatayatalk?
1st Salesman
Ya can talk, ya can talk, ya can bicker, ya can
talk, ya can bicker, bicker, bicker, ya can talk, ya can talk,
ya can talk, talk, talk, talk, bicker, bicker, bicker, ya can
talk all ya want but is differnt than it was.
Charlie
No it ain’t, no it ain’t, but you gotta know the territory
Rail Car
Shh shh shh shh shh shh shh
3rd Salesman
Why it’s the Model T Ford made the trouble, made the
people wanna go, wanna get, wanna get, wanna get up and go
seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, fourteen, twenty-two, twenty-
three miles to the county seat
1st Salesman
Yes sir, yes sir
3rd Salesman
Who’s gonna patronize a little bitty two by four kinda
store anymore?
4th Salesman
Whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk,
5th Salesman
Where do you get it?
3rd Salesman
Gone, gone
Gone with the hogshead cask and demijohn, gone with the sugar barrel
Pickle barrel, milk pan, gone with the tub and the pail and the
tierce
2nd Salesman
Ever meet a fellow by the name of Hill?
1st Salesman
Hill?
Charlie
Hill?
3rd Salesman
Hill?
4th Salesman
Hill?
1st Newspaper
Hill?
2nd Newspaper
Hill?
5th Salesman
Hill?
2nd Salesman
Hill!
All but Charlie & 2nd Salesman
NO!
Charlie
Just a minute, just a minute, just a minute
4th Salesman
Never heard of any salesman Hill
2nd Salesman
Now he doesn’t know the territory
1st Salesman
Doesn’t know the territory?!?
3rd Salesman
What’s the fellow’s line?
2nd Salesman
Never worries ’bout his line
1st Salesman
Never worries ’bout his line?!?
2nd Salesman
Or a doggone thing, He’s just a bang beat, bell ringing,
Big haul, great go, neck-or-nothing, rip roarin’, every time a
bull’s eye salesman, That’s Professor Harold Hill, Harold Hill
3rd Salesman
What’s the fellow’s line?
5th Salesman
What’s his line?
Charlie
He’s a fake, and he doesn’t know the territory!
4th Salesman
Look, whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk?
2nd Salesman
He’s a music man
1st Salesman
He’s a what?
3rd Salesman
He’s a what?
2nd Salesman
He’s a music man and he sells clarinets to the kids in
the town with the big trombones and the rat-a-tat drums, big
brass bass, big brass bass, and the piccolo, the piccolo with
uniforms, too with a shiny gold braid on the coat and a big
red stripe runnin’…
1st Salesman
Well, I don’t know much about bands but I do know you can’t
make a living selling big trombones, no sir. Mandolin picks, perhaps
and here and there a Jew’s harp…
2nd Salesman
No, the fellow sells bands, Boys’ bands. I don’t know how he
does it but he lives like a king and he dallies and he
gathers and he plucks and he shines, and when the man dances
Certainly, boys, what else? The piper pays him! Yes sir,
yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, when the man dances, certainly,
boys, what else? The piper pays him! Yessssir, Yessssir
Charlie
But he doesn’t know the territory!
Iowa Stubborn
Townspeople
Oh…
There’s nothing halfway
About the Iowa way to treat you
When we treat you
Which we may not do at all.
There’s an Iowa kind of special
Chip-on-the-shoulder attitude
We’ver never been without
That we recall.
We can be cold a our falling
Thermometer in December
If you ask about our weather in July
And we’re so By-God stubborn
We can stand touchin’ noses
For a week at a time
And never see eye-to-eye.
But what the heck, you’re welcome
Join us at the picnic,
You can have your fill
Of all the food you bring yourself.
You really ought to give Iowa a try.
(Provided you are contrary.)
We can be cold a our falling
Thermometer in December
If you ask about our weather in July
And we’re so By-God stubborn
We can stand touchin’ noses
For a week at a time
And never see eye-to-eye.
But…
We’ll give you our shirt
And a back to go with it
If your crops should happen to die
So what the heck, you’re welcome
Glad to have you with us
Even though we may not ever mention it again
You really ought to give Iowa a try.
Hawkeye, Iowa
DuBuque
Des Moines
Davenport
Marshalltown
Mason City
Keokuk
Ames
Clear Lake
Ought to give Iowa a try
Ya Got Trouble
Harold
Well, ya got trouble, my friend.
Right here, I say trouble right here in River City
Why, sure, I’m a billiard player
Certainly mighty proud to say,
I’m always mighty proud to say it
I consider the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden
Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye
‘Jever take and try to give an iron clad leave
to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot?
But just as I say it takes judgement, brains and
maturity to score in a balk-line game
I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket
And I call that sloth,
the first big step on the road to the depths of degreda-
I say, first- medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle
And the next thing you know your son is playin’for money in a pinchback suit
And listenin’ to some big out-o’-town jasper
hear him tell about horserace gamblin’
Not a wholesome trottin’ race, no, but a race where they set down right on the horse
Like to see some stuck up jockey boy sittin’ on Dan Patch?
Make your blood boil, well I should say
Now, folks, let me show you what I mean
You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table
Pockets that mark the difference between a gentleman and a bum
With a capital ‘B’ and that rhymes with ‘P’ and that stands for ‘pool’
And all week long, your River City youth’ll be fritterin’ away
I say, your young men’ll be fritterin’
Fritterin’ away their noontime, suppertime, choretime, too
Hit the ball in the pocket
Never mind gettin’ dandelions pulled or the screen door
patched or the beefsteak pounded
Never mind pumpin’ any water ’til your parents are caught
with a cistern empty on a Saturday night and that’s trouble
Oh, ya got lots and lots o’ trouble
I’m thinkin’ of the kids in the knickerbockers shirttails,
young ones peekin’ in the pool hall window after school
Ya got trouble, folks, right here in River City
with a capital ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘P’ and that
stands for ‘pool’
Now I know all you folks are the right kind of parents
I’m gonna be perfectly frank
Would you like to know what kind of conversation goes on
while they’re loafin’ around that hall
They’ll be tryin’ out Bevo, tryin’ out Cubebs,
tryin’ out tailor-mades like cigarette fiends
And braggin’ all about how they’re gonna cover up
a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen
Now one fine night they leave the pool hall
headin’ for the dance at the Armory
Libertine men and scarlet women and ragtime
Shameless music that’ll grab your son, your daughter
into the arms of a jungle animal instinct- massteria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil’s playground, trouble!
Townspeople
Oh, we got trouble
Harold
Right here in River City
Townspeople
Right here in River City
Harold
With a capital ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘P’ and that
stands for ‘pool’
Townspeople
That stands for pool
Harold
We surely got trouble
Townspeople
We surely got trouble
Harold
Right here in River City
Townspeople
Right here
Harold
Gotta figure out a way to keep the young ones
moral after school
Townspeople
‘trouble’
Harold
Mothers of River City,
heed this warning before it’s too late
Watch for the tell-tale signs of corruption
The minute your son leaves the house
does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee?
Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger?
A dime novel hidden in the corncrib?
Is he starting to memorize jokes
from Cap’n Billy’s Whizbang?
Are certain words creeping into his conversation?
Words like… swell?
And… ‘so’s your old man’?
Well if so, my friends…
Ya got trouble
Townspeople
Oh, we got trouble
Harold
Right here in River City
Townspeople
Right here in River City
Harold
With a capital ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘P’ and that stands for ‘pool’
Townspeople
That stands for pool
Harold
We’ve surely got trouble
Townspeople
We surely got trouble
Harold
Right here in River City
Townspeople
Right here
Harold
Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule?
Oho, we got trouble
We’re in terrible, terrible trouble
That game with the fifteen numbered balls is the devil’s tool
Townspeople
Devil’s tool
Harold
Yes, we’ve got trouble, trouble, trouble
Townspeople
Oh, yes, we got trouble here, we got big, big trouble
Harold
With a ‘T’
Townspeople
With a capital ‘T’
Harold
And that rhymes with ‘P’
Townspeople
That rhymes with ‘P’
Harold
And that stands for pool
Townspeople
That stands for pool
Harold
Remember my friends, listen to me,
because I pass this way but once
Piano Lesson
Marian
So do la re ti mi
A little slower and please keep the fingers curved
as nice and high as you possibly can
Mrs. Paroo
If you don’t mind me saying so
It wouldn’t have hurt you to have found out
what the gentleman wanted
Marian
I know what the gentleman wanted,
You’ll find it in Balzac
Mrs. Paroo
Well excuse me for living, but I’ve never read it
Marian
Neither has anyone else in this town…
Mrs. Paroo
There you go again with the same old comment
About the low mentality of River City people
And takin’ it all too much to heart
Marian
Now, Mama
As long as the Madison Public Library was entrusted
to me for the purpose of improving River City’s
cultural level, I can’t help my concern that the
ladies of River City kep ignoring all my council and advice
Mrs. Paroo
But darlin’:
When a woman’s gotta husband and you’ve got none
Why should she take advice for you?
Even if you can quote Balzac and Shakespeare and
All them other high-falutin’ Greeks?
Marian
Mama,
If you don’t mind me saying so, you have a bad habit
Of changing every subject –
Mrs. Paroo
Now I haven’t changed the subject, I was talkin’ about
that stranger –
Marian
What stranger?
Mrs. Paroo
With the suitcase who may be your very last chance
Marian
Mama!
Do you think that I’d allow a common masher
-Now really, Mama!
I have my standards where men are concerned and I have no intention –
Mrs. Paroo
I know all about your standards
And if you don’t mind me sayin’ so
There’s not a man alive who could hope to measure up
To that blend of Paul Bunyan, Saint Pat and Noah Webster
You’ve concocted for yourself
Out of your Irish imagination
Your Iowa stubbornness and your library fulla’ books!
Goodnight, My Someone
Marian
Good night, my someone.
Good night, my love.
Sleep tight, my someone.
Sleep tight, my love.
Our star is shining its brightest light,
For good night, my love, for good night.
Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be —
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
I wish they may and I wish they might.
Now good night, my someone, good night.
“True love can be whispered from heart to heart,
When lovers are parted,” they say.
But I must depend on a wish and a star
As long as my heart doesn’t know who you are.
Sweet dreams be yours, dear, if dreams there be —
Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
I wish they may and I wish they might.
Now good night, my someone, good night.
Good night! Good night!
76 Trombones
Harold
May I have your attention, please? Attention, please.
I can deal with this trouble, friends,
with the wave of my hand, this very hand
Please observe me, if you will I’m Professor Harold Hill
And I’m here to organize a River City Boys Band
Oh, think, my friends, how can any pool table
ever hope to compete with a gold trombone
Raaa- raaa- ra-da-da-da-da-raaa-raa
Remember, my friends, what a handful of trumpet players
did to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho
Oh, billiard parlor walls come a-tumblin’ down
Oh, a band’ll do it, my friends,oh yes
I said a Boys Band, do you hear me?
I say River City’s gotta have a Boys Band
and I mean she needs it today
Well, Professor Harold Hill’s on hand
and River City’s gonna have her Boys Band
Just as 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.
Ta-ta-ta!
And you’ll feel something akin to the electric thrill
I once enjoyed when Gilmore, Pat Conway,
The Great Creatore, 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 ev’ry famous band.
Seventy six trombones caught the morning sun,
With a hundred and ten cornets right behind.
There were more than a thousand reeds springing up like weeds,
There were horns of every shape and kind.
There were copper bottom tympani in horse platoons,
Thundering, thundering, all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons,
Each bassoon having his 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.
Townspeople: Seventy six trombones hit the counter point,
While a hundred and ten cornets played the air.
To the rhythm of “HARCH, HARCH, HARCH”
All the kids began to march
And they’re marching still, right today!
Sincere
Harold
How can there be…
Ewart
…Any…
Quartet
… sin in Sincere?
Where is the good in goodbye?
You’re apprehensions confuse me dear
Puzzle and mystify
Mystify, tell me…
Where is the fair in farewell, dear?
While one single star shines above?
How can there be in sin in sincere?
Aren’t we sincerely in love?
Oh… we’re in love
The Sadder But Wiser Girl
Harold
No wide-eyed, eager, wholesome, innocent Sunday-school teacher for me
That kinda girl spins webs no spider ever…
Listen boy…
A girl who trades on all that purity
Merely wants to trade my independence for her security
The only affirmative she will file
refers to marching down the aisle
No golden, glorious, gleaming pristine goddess, no sir!
for no Diana do I play faun, I can tell you that right now
I snarl, I hiss, how can ignorance be compared to bliss?
I spark, I fizz, for the lady who knows what time it is
I cheer, I rave, for the virtue I’m too late to save
The sadder but wiser girl for me
No bright-eyed, blushing, breathless baby-doll baby, no sir!
that kinda child ties knots no sailor ever knew
I prefer to take a chance on a more adult romance
No dewy young miss who keeps resisting
All the time she keeps insisting
No wide-eyed, wholesome, innocent female, No Sir!
Why, she’s the fisherman, I’m the fish, you see? Plop!
I flinch, I shy when the lass with the delicate air goes by
I smile, I grin when the gal with a touch of sin walks in
I hope, I pray for Hester to win just one more ‘A’
The sadder but wiser girl’s the girl for me
The sadder but wiser girl for me!