Steppes

Officer Krupke

Music

Leonard Bernstein

Arranged by

Steppes

Words

Stephen Sondheim

Lyrics

Rob: Deeaaar kindly sergeant Krupke
Ya gotta understand
It's just our bringin' upke
That gets us outta hand
Our mothers all are junkies
Our fathers all are drunks
Golly moses, naturally we're punks

All: Gee officer krupke
We're very upset
We never had the love
That every child outta get
We ain't no delinquents
We're misunderstood
Deep down inside us
Der is good, der is good
Der is good, der is good
Der is often good
Like inside the woist of us is good

Scott: Tell the judges your story

Rob: Let me tell it to da world

Scott: Just tell it to da judge

Rob: Deeaaar kindly judge yer honor
My parents treat me rough
Wit 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

Dave: Why officer Krupke
You're really a square
This boy don't need a judge
He needs an analyst's care
It's just his neuroses
Dat otta be coibed
He's psychologically distoibed

Rob: I'm distoibed

All: We're distoibed, we're distoibed
We're the most distoibed
Like we're psychologically distoibed

Dave: Hear ye, hear ye, in the opinion
Of dis court this child is depraved
On accounta he ain't had
A normal home

Rob: hey! I'm depraved
On accounta I'm deprived

Lee: so take him to a head shrinka

Rob: Who? Who me?
My daddy beats my mommy
My mommy clobbers me
My grampa is a commie
My gramma pushes tea
My sister wears a mustache
My brudda wears a dress
Goodness gracious
Dats why I'm a mess

Scott: Yes, offizer Krrupke
He zhouldn't be herre
Dis boy don't need a couch
He needs a uzeful carreer
Soziety played him
A terrible trrick
Unt zoziologically he's zick

Rob: I am zick!

All: We are sick, we are sick
We are sick sick sick
Like we're sociologically sick

Scott: In my opinion zis child does not
Need to have hiss head shrrunk
At all, juvenile delinquency is
Purrely a zocial disease

Rob: hey! I got a social disease

Dave: So take him to a social woika

Rob: Which way?

Dave: Right there

Rob: Deeaaar kindly social woika
Dey tell me get a job
Like be a soda joika
Which means like be a slob
It ain't I'm anti-social
I'm only anti-woik
Glory-osky dats why I'm a joik

Lee: Yes officer Krupke
You've done it again
Dis 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

Rob: I'm no good

All: We're no good, we're no good
We're no oithly good
Like the best of us is no damn good

Dave: The trouble is he's lazy

Bill: The trouble is he drinks

Scott: The trouble is he's crazy

Lee: The trouble is he stinks

Dave: The trouble is he's growing

Lee: The trouble is he's grown

All: Krupke we've got
Troubles of our own
Officer Krupke
We're down on our knees

Rob: Cuz no one wants a fella
With a social disease

All: Gee officer Krupke
What are we to do?????
Gee officer Krupke, krup you!