West Side Story: No. 14: Gee, Officer Krupke!

David Livingston, Marty Nelson, Peter Thom, Stephen Bogardus, Todd Lester

Popularity · Low

YouTube

Searching YouTube...

Lyrics

Hey, you Who, me? Yeah, you Why it is, Officer Krupke, Baby John Top of the evening, Officer Krupke I'll crack the top of your skulls if You punks don't stop when I whistle You see, cops believe everything they read in the papers To them we ain't human We're cruddy juvenile delinquents So that's what we give 'em Hey, you Me, Officer Krupke? Yeah, you Give me one good reason for not dragging You down the station house, ya punk Dear kindly Sgt Krupke, You gotta understand, It's just Our bringin' up-ke That gets us outta hand Our mudders all are junkies, Our fathers all are drunks Golly Moses! Naturally we're punks Gee, Officer Krupke, We're very upset We never had the love That every child oughta get We ain't no delinquents, We're misunderstood Deep down inside us There is good There is good? There is good There is good? There is unflatteringly good Right inside, The worst of us is good That's a touching good story Let me tell it to the world Just tell it to the judge Dear kindly Judge, Your Honor, My parents treat me rough With all their marijuana, They won't give me a puff They didn't wanna have me, But somehow I was had Leapin' Lazes! That's why I'm so bad! Right! Officer Krupke, You're really a square This boy don't need a judge, He needs a analyst's care It's just his neurosis That oughta be coifed He's psychologically disturbed I'm disturbed? We're disturbed We're disturbed We're the most disturbed Like we're psychologically disturbed In the opinion of this court, this child is Depraved on account he ain't had a normal home Hey, I'm depraved on account I'm deprived So take him to a head-shrinker My father is a bastard, My ma's an S.O.B. My grandpa's always plastered, My grandma pushes tea My sister wears a mustache, My brudder 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 to put on his job Society's played him A terrible trick Sociologically, he's sick I am sick? We are sick We are sick We are sick, sick, sick Like we're sociopatically sick In my opinion, this child don't need to have his head shrunk at all Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease Hey, I got a social disease So? Take him to a social worker Dear kindly social worker, They say go Ain't a buck Like, be a sorta joiker Which means, like, be a schmuck It's not I'm antisocial, I'm only anti-work Gloryosky! That's why I'm a joik 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 good We're no good We're the worst things good Like the best of us is no damn good The trouble is, he's crazy The trouble is, he drinks The trouble is, he's lazy 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 fellow With a social disease Gee, Officer Krupke, What are we to do? Gee, Officer Krupke, Krup- you!