Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke,
You gotta 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, natcherly 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 untapped good!
Like inside, the worst of us is good!
That's a touchin' good story.
Lemme 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' 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 analyst's care!
It's just his neurosis that oughta be curbed.
He's psychologic'ly disturbed!
I'm disturbed!
We're disturbed, we're disturbed,
We're the most disturbed,
Like we're psychologic'ly disturbed.
In the opinion on 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 headshrinker.
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 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 sociologic'ly he's sick!
I am sick!
We are sick, we are sick,
We are sick, sick, sick,
Like we're sociologically 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 earn a buck.
Like be a soda jerker,
Which means like be a schumck.
It's not I'm anti-social,
I'm only anti-work.
Gloryosky! That's why I'm a jerk!
(As Female Social Worker)
Eek!
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 no earthly 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 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! -