Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here in Rover City.
Why sure I'm a lawn inspector,
Certainly mighty proud I say
I'm always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With a leash on my neck are golden.
Help you cultivate dog sense
A cool head and a keen nose.
Did ya ever take and try to give
An iron-clad leave to yourself
From a three-tree hydrant stop?
 
But just as I say, It takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score
In a clean lawn game,
I say that any pup can take
And drop a pile on the grass.
And they call that sloth.
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-dation--
I say, first, medicinal treats from a packet,
Then bones from a butcher.
An' the next thing ya know,
Your pup is pooping for sport In a fancy collar.
And list'nin to some big out-a-town Mastiff
Hearin' him tell about lawn-poop contests.
Not a wholesome potty walk, no!
But a walk where they squat right down on the lawn!
Like to see some stuck-up show dog
Squatting on prize petunias?
Make your fur bristle?
Well, I should say.
 
Friends, let me tell you what I mean.
You got one, two, three, four, five, six lawns on a block.
Lawns that mark the diff'rence
Between a good boy and a bad dog,
Bad with a capital "B,"
And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for poop!
 
And all week long your Rover City
Pups'll be frittering away,
I say your young dogs'll be frittering!
Frittering away their walkies time, dinner time, playtime too!
Never mind gettin' balls fetched
Or the doggy door scratched or the chew toys gnawed.
Never mind filling any water bowls
'Til your owners are caught with the dish empty
On a Saturday night and that's trouble,
Oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble.
 
I'm thinkin' of the pups in the fancy harnesses,
Tail-waggin' young ones, sniffin' in the park
Grass patches after walkies, ya got trouble, folks!
Right here in Rover City.
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for poop!
 
Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda pet-parents.
I'm gonna be perfectly frank.
Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes
On while they're loafin' around that Park?
They're tryin' out Beggin' Strips,
tryin' out rawhides,
Tryin' out Milk-Bones like treat fiends!
And braggin' all about
How they're gonna cover up a tell-tale smell with Kibble-breath.
One fine night, they leave the dog park,
Headin' for the stroll at the Promenade!
Libertine mutts and Scarlet poodles!
And Bark-time, shameless howling
That'll grab your son and your daughter
With the paws of a jungle animal instinct!
Mass-hysteria!
Friends, the idle paw is the devil's playground!
 
Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in Rover City!
With a capital "T" That rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Poop.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in Rover City,
Right here!
Gotta figure out a way
To keep the young pups moral after walkies!
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble...
 
Owners of Rover City!
Heed that warning before it's too late!
Watch for the tell-tale sign of corruption!
The minute your pup leaves the house,
Does he sniff suspiciously at every blade of grass?
Is there a mud stain on his paw pads?
A stolen slipper hidden in the doghouse?
Is he starting to memorize tricks from Capt. Bully's Woof Bang?
Are certain barks creeping into his conversation?
Barks like, like 'bow-wow?'
And 'arf's your old mutt?'
Well, if so my friends,
Ya got trouble,
Right here in Rover City!
With a capital "T" And that rhymes with "P" And that stands for Poop.
 
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in Rover City!
Remember the Leash, Poop Scoop and the Golden Retriever Rule!
Oh, we've got trouble.
We're in terrible, terrible trouble.
That game with the brown piles on lawns is a devil's stool!
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
With a "T"!
Gotta rhyme it with "P"!
And that stands for Poop!!!
 
Phew! This image of our favourite Music Man is available as a greetings card and art-print. Heed this warning before it's too late, and buy some!