Rock Island

(Vern reed)

Cash for the merchandise, cash for the button hooks

Cash for the cotton goods, csh for the hard goods

Cash for the fancy goods

Cash for the noggins and the piggins and the frikins

Cash for the hogdhead, cask and demijohn.

Cash for the crackers and the pickels and the flypaper

Look whatayatalk. Whatayatalk, whatayatalk, whatayataalk, whatayatalk?

Weredayagitit?

Whatayatalk?

Ya can talk, ya can talk, ya can bicker ya can talk,

Ya can bicker, bicker bicker ya can talk all ya want

But is different than it was.

No it ain't, no it ain't, but ya gotta know the territory.

Shh shh shh shh shh shh shh

Why it's the model t ford made the trouble,

Made the prople wanna go, wanna get, wanna get up and go

Seven eight, nine, ten, twelve, fourteen, twent-two, twenty-three milew to the county seat

Yes sir, yes sir

Who's gonna patronize a little bitty two by four kinda store anymore?

Whaddaya talk, whaddaya talk.

Where do you get it?

Gone, gone

Gone with the hogshead cask and demijohn, gone with the sugar barrel,

Pickel barrel, milk pan, gone with the tub and

The pail and the fierce

Ever meet a fellow by the name of hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

Hill?

All but charlie and 2nd salesman: No!

Never heard of any salesman hill

Now he dosen't know the territory

Dosen't know the territory?!?

Whats the fellows line?

Never worries bout his line

Never worries bout his line?!?

Or a doggone thing. He's just a bang beat, bell ringing,

Big haul, great go, neck or nothin, rip roarin,

Every time a bull's eye salesman. Thats professor harold hill, harold hill

What's the fellows line?

Whats his line?

He's a fake, and he dosen't know the territory!

Look, whaddayatalk, whaddayatalk, whaddayatalk, whaddaystalk?

He's a music man

He's a what?

He's a what?

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 barass 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...

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...

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 shines and when the man dances, certinely boys, what else?

The piper pays him! Yes sir,yes

Sir,yes sir, yes sir, when the man dances, certinely boys, what else?

The piper pays him! Yessssir, yessssir

But he dosen't know the territory!