Tune: The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo

As I trot along the pavement with an independent air
The people stop and stare, but I couldn't really care 
As each tree and lamppost comes along,
I cock my leg and point my dong.
I'm the dog who fouls the pavements up in Harlow

I'm a canine eneuretic,
I'm the son of Piddling Pete;
I flood the drains and stop the trains
And once capsized the fleet.
From a firehose jet to a garden spray
I can simulate a rainy day.
I'm the dog who fouls the pavements up in Harlow

From the top of Abercrombie Way to the 'Swift' at Sherrard's Hatch,
I've never met my match on any grassy patch
I'm a tropical storm, and a mountain stream
I'm a one-dog hydroelectric scheme
I'm the dog who fouls the pavements up in Harlow

There are lots of little fatherless dogs in Harlow Town today
But when they point at me I just point the other way
'Cos to populate, you must copulate
And I'd far rather defecate,
I'm the dog who fouls the pavements up in Harlow

And when I die and go to Hell and in my grave I'm laid,
Be careful where you tread
Be sure it's on my head
'Cos if my bladder should happen to burst
Remember it's women and children first
I'm the dog who fouls the pavements up in Harlow