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Meredith Willson
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The Music Man: Seventy-Six Trombones
Please folks, please folks. May I have your attention please?
Attention please?
I can deal with this 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 a River City Boys Band
Oh think my friends, how could any pool table ever hope to compete with a gold trombone?
Ra-da-ra-da-da-da-da-ra-da
Remember my friends what a handful of trumpet players did to the famous fabled walls of Jericho?
Oh billiard parlor walls come a'tumbling down
Oh a band will do it my friends, I mean a boys band, yes indeed
I say River City's gotta have a boys band and I mean she needs it today
But Professor Harold Hill's on hand
And River City's gonna have a boys band
As sure as the Lord made little green apples
And that band's gonna be in uniform
Johnny, Willie, Teddy, Fred
And you'll see the glitter of crashing cymbols
And you'll hear the thunder of roaring drums
The shimmer of trumpets
Ta-ta-da!
And you feel something akin to the electric thrill I enjoyed when Gilmour, Liberate, Pat Conway, the Great Creator, W.C. Handy, and John Philip Sousa all came to town on the very same historic day.
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Seventy-six trombones led the big parade
With a hundred and ten coronets 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 coronets 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 timpanies and 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 whole octave higher than the score
Seventy-six trombones hit the counterpoint
While a hundred and ten coronets blazed away
To the rhythm of harch, harch, harch all the kids began to march
And they're marching still right today
They're marching still right today
Harold Hill!
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