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

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!