Hey you, Who me, Officer Krupke? Yeah you, gimme one good reason for not dragging you down the station, ya punk!

Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke, you gotta understand, It's just our bringin' upke that gets us out of hand, Our mothers 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

That's a touching 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 psychologically disturbed

Hear ye, hear ye 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 headshrinker

My daddy beats my mommy, my mommy clobbers me, My grandpa is a commie, 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, he shouldn't be here, This boy don't need a couch, he needs a useful career, Society's played him a terrible trick and sociologically he's sick

In my opinion, this child does not 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 tell me get a job, Like be a soda jerker, which means like be a slob, It's not I'm antisocial, I'm only anti-work, Glory Osky, that's why I'm a jerk

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

The trouble is he's lazy, the trouble is he drinks, The trouble is he's crazy, 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 fella with  a social disease
Gee, Officer Krupke What are we to do?
Gee, Officer Krupke, Krup you!

the really weird thing about listening to this as a fifty year old, was the sad realisation that I never understood what I was singing when I was a ten year old. . . and how nothing really changes - all the issues in WSS are exactly the same now as they were then. . .

tonight, tonight

I took the TTs (Teens/Twenties) to see

at the

I think they all had a good time. . .

 on the other hand, I have a very sore mouth - had to bite my tongue not to sing along. . .


if it were flat, it would be a boulevard

so, there is a long road running along the end of my little street. . .

it has huge London Plane Trees (I do so love London Plane Trees!) either side and wide pavements full with people sitting at cafes chatting, strolling along purposefully, wandering around aimlessly, some just stand and watch the world go by

I think it must be a Roman Road, so long and so straight is it

it is an "Avenue", in the oldest sense of the word; if this were Paris it would be a boulevard and it would be flat and to the sides of the pavements would be gravel; because this is London Town, it goes up a hill (or, I suppose, down a hill) (kinda depends which direction you are travelling in); at the top is Nothing Hill Gate, which presumably means* that in times past there actually was a gate of sorts (there is no gate anymore)

*I shall look into this and report back when I have learned what there is to learn about the Avenue and the Gate

if you take the time to stop and stand back and look (as opposed to being aimless or purposeful) it really is quite stunning

sew, a needle drawing thread