The Jets, Eddie Roll, Grover Dale, Hank Brunjes, Tony Mordente & David Winters -
Greatest Musicals Double Feature - South Pacific & West Side Story
Gee Officer Krupke
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!
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!
Credits
Writer(s): Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
- South Pacific Overture
- Dites Moi
- Cocked Eyed Optomist
- Wonder How It Feels
- Some Enchanted Evening
- Bloody Mary
- My Girl Back Home
- There Is Nothin' Like A Dame
- Bali Hai
- I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair
All Album Tracks: Greatest Musicals Double Feature - South Pacific & West Side Story >
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.