Shady song lyrics: Broadway tunes edition.

The lid was blown off a wide variety of Christmas song lyrics a couple months back. Now it's time to give Broadway the same treatment and an examination of their own lyrics. Admittedly, I'm not a Broadway fan. But after looking at some of these lyrics I might need to give it a second thought. Wholesome? If these lyrics were any more wholesome they'd have to be eaten with oatmeal.

Song: Gee, Officer Krupke!

Written by: Stephen Sondheim

From: West Side Story

Gang violence never looked so dashing as it does in West Side Story. And like all typical gang members that you might find in New York City's seedier alleys, they're liable to bust out into song with a police officer around.

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!

I've always thought the DARE program lacked a musical vibe. It's good to get small children to watch West Side Story so they can be introduced to the concept of junkies at an early age and in such a toe-tapping manner. Plus, if there's anything I've learned from watching episodes of COPS, it's that the police always understand when you blame your upbringing for your bad behavior. It's like a verbal "Get Out of Jail Free" card.

Dear kindly Judge, your Honor,
My parents treat me rough.
With all their marijuana,
They won't give me a puff.

I might be looking into things here, but I think the guy just said his parents are potheads. But not just any potheads--they're potheads with a deep moral code. The kids don't get any. I like that in a pothead parent.

They didn't wanna have me,
But somehow I was had.
Leapin' lizards! That's why I'm so bad!

"Somehow I was had"? That's called gestation, buddy. Nine months. It happens to the best of us.

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 

No one likes to see grandmas pushing tea. But with cuts in social security, it's bound to happen. Nursing home violence might erupt over some Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe. Forget marijuana--tea is the gateway drug of choice of the AARP crowd.

Song: Sixteen Going on Seventeen

Written by: Oscar Hammerstein

From: The Sound of Music

Maria von Trapp was all the women's lib one musical could withstand. The Sound of Music needed some old school macho man attitude to crop up somewhere. Cue nearly 18 year old Rolf:

You are sixteen going on seventeen
Fellows will fall in line
Eager young lads and roues and cads 

Will offer you food and wine
...
You need someone older and wiser
Telling you what to do
I am seventeen going on eighteen
I'll take care of you.

Meanwhile, Liesl--she of sixteen going on seventeen fame--is easily undertaken by such sweet nothings whispered by Rolf. And how can she not be? A teenage boy offering to boss you around? It's as if he's walked straight out of central casting for dreamy men. What a Casanova!

Liesl:

I am sixteen going on seventeen
I know that I'm naïve
Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet
And willingly I believe
...
Totally unprepared am I
To face a world of men
Timid and shy and scared am I
Of things beyond my ken
I need someone older and wiser
Telling me what to do
You are seventeen going on eighteen
I'll depend on you.

If you listen very, very quietly, you can hear Betty Friedan sobbing from her grave.

Song: It's a Hard-Knock Life

Written by: Martin Charnin

From: Annie

Ahh, child abuse and song. It goes together like peas and carrots. Misery often makes me break out into song, as it does for Annie here. Why, for example, whenever I see a commercial for starving children with distended stomachs in Third World countries, I often put on my dancing shoes and sashay the misery away.

Orphans:

It's a hard-knock life for us!
It's a hard-knock life for us!

Annie:

'Steada treated!

Orphans:

We get tricked!

Annie:

'Steada kisses!

Orphans:

We get kicked!

Why quibble over physical assaults on children? One person's kicking is another person's love tap. I'm sure closed-fist punching is just love coming at you at full speed.

Annie:

Cotton blankets,

Orphans:

'Steada wool!

Annie:

Empty bellies:

Orphans:

'Steada full!

Apparently we have high-society minded orphans here. Cotton blankets aren't good enough. Next, they'll be asking for 700 count Egyptian cotton sheets underneath down comforters on a memory foam mattress. I sleep with cotton blankets, and I'm not an orphan. I just look like one.

Orphans:

Ohhhh!!

Empty belly life!
Rotten smelly life!
Full of sorrow life!
No tomorrow life!

When all else fails in a Broadway musical, make sure to offer up some subtle hints at suicide. Someone better get the Samaritans on the phone.

Song: Bill
Written by: Oscar Hammerstein, with Jerome Kern and P.G. Wodehouse
From: Show Boat

Sometimes it's best to minimize expectations in a relationship. We always assume the one we'll marry will be flawless in every way. With Bill here, we see pragmatism at its very best.

I used to dream that I would discover
The perfect lover someday.
...

But along came Bill
Who's not the type at all,
You'd meet him on the street
And never notice him.

So, what she's trying to say is that Bill's an eye-catcher.

It's surely not his brain
That makes me thrill -
I love him because he's wonderful,
Because he's just my Bill.

That's right. Bill is kind of ugly and he's kind of dumb, but he shouldn't be offended. He's still a wonderful guy!

He can't play golf or tennis or polo,
Or sing a solo, or row.
He isn't half as handsome
As dozens of men that I know.
He isn't tall or straight or slim
And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim.

That sound you hear of an engine revving is the sound of this woman hitting the gas as she runs over her husband with more sweet compliments. I'm going out on a limb here to say that Bill is probably a very patient, quiet man. He also might have scoliosis, since he isn't "straight." She can't even cut the man some slack for a spinal condition!

He hasn't got a thing that I can brag about.
And yet to be
Upon his knee
So comfy and roomy
Seems natural to me.

Oh, well, now that's the kind of sentiment Rolf from The Sound of Music can get behind. At least Bill has comfortable knees that the little lady can sit upon like a trophy wife. I think I need to see a chiropractor, because I just had a case of whiplash from seeing the song lyrics go from "My husband is a loser" to "I'm happy to be a trophy wife" in a matter of five lines. 

Ohh, Oscar Hammerstein! Your subtle jabs of misogyny make any Broadway production more of a sing-along!