The Jets, Eddie Roll, Grover Dale, Hank Brunjes, Tony Mordente & David Winters - Gee Officer Krupke paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Gee Officer Krupke - The Jets, Eddie Roll, Grover Dale, Hank Brunjes, Tony Mordente & David Winters



Dear kindly Seargant Krupke,
You got to understand,
It's just our bringin' up-ke
That gets us out of hand.
Our mothers all are junkies
Our fathers all are drunks!
Golly Moses! Naturally we're punks!
Gee Officer Krupke, we're very upset.
We've never had the love that
Every child ought to get.
We ain't no delinquents,
We're misunderstood.
Deep down inside us
There is good
(There is good)
There is untapped good,
Like inside the worst of us is good.
Dear kindly judge, your Honor,
My parents treat me rough.
With all their marijuana,
They won't give me a puff!
They didn't want to have me,
But somehow I was had!
Leaping lizards!
That's why I'm so bad!
Right! Officer Krupke, you're really a square.
This boy don't need a judge,
He needs an analysts' care.
It's just his neurosis that ought to be cured.
He's psychologically disturbed
I'm disturbed!
We're distrubed,
Like we're psychologically distrubed.
My father is a bastard,
My mom's an S.O.B,
My grandpa's always plastered,
My grandma pushes tea,
My sister wears a mustache,
My brother wears a dress!
Goodness Gracious!
That's why I'm a mess!
Yes! Officer Krupke, you're really a slob.
This boy don't need a doctor,
Just a good honest job.
Society's played him a terrible trick,
And sociologically, he's sick!
I am sick!
We are sick,
Like we're sociologically sick.
Dear kindly social worker,
They offer me some dough,
Like be a soda jerker,
Which means like be a shmo!
It's not I'm anti-social,
I'm only anti-work!
Gloryoskee! That's why I'm a jerk!
Officer Krupke, you've done it again.
This boy don't need a job,
He needs a year in the pen!
It ain't just a question of misunderstood,
Deep down inside him,
He's no good!
I'm no good!
We're no (earthly) good,
Like the rest of us is just no good.
The trouble is he's lazy
The trouble is he drinks
The trouble is he's crazy
The trouble is he stinks
The trouble is he's growing
The trouble is he's grown.
Krupke, we've got troubles of our own.
Gee, Officer Krupke we're down on our knees,
Cause no one wants a fella with a social disease.
Gee Officer Krupke, what are we to do?
Gee, Officer Krupke,
Krup you!



Writer(s): Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein


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