Letra de 'Three Juvenile Delinquents' de Noel Coward

Verse 1

Three juvenile delinquents,
Juvenile delinquents,
Happy as can be-we
Waste no time
On the wherefores and whys of it;
We like crime
And that's about the size of it;
People say that films demoralise us,
Lead us to a life of shame,
Mental doctors try to civilise us,
Psycho-analyse us,
Blimey, what a game!
They don't know how to treat us,
For if they should beat us
That would never do,
When they say, 'go steady!'
We've the answer ready:
And the same to you!

Verse 2

Three juvenile delinquents,
Juvenile delinquents,
Happy as can be-we
Hit and run
For the thrill and the sport of it;
Nice clean fun
And that's the long and short of it.
Dear old ladies often get the vapours
When we meet them after dark-whoo!
Then next day we read about our capers
In the daily papers,
Blimey, what a lark!
We thrill the sunday readers,
But the silly bleeders
Haven't got a clue
When the judge says, 'chokey'
We say 'okey-dokey'
And the same to you!

Verse 3

Three juvenile delinquents,
Juvenile delinquents,
Happy as can be-we
Lick our chops
When we read what they write of us
All the cops
Hate the bloody sight of us.
Once we pinched a cadillac and drove her
From the marble arch to kew;
Hit a fat old geezer in a rover,
Fairly bowled her over,
Blimey, what a do!
We said, 'you mustn't fuss, dear,
There's a lovely bus, dear,
Number twenty-two,
If we've bruised your bonnet,
Stick a plaster on it.'
And the same to you!

Verse 4

Three juvenile delinquents,
Juvenile delinquents.
Every now and then-when
Kind old cranks
Mention angels of light to us
We say, 'thanks,
Don't forget to write to us.'
Nowadays the younger generation
Never had to face brute force.
Some old judge, instead of flagellation,
Puts us on probation!
Blimey, what a sauce!
Last night we got an earful
From a rather tearful
Clergyman we knew.
When he turned the sobs on
We replied, "with knobs on'
And the same to you!

Verse 5

Three juvenile delinquents,
Juvenile delinquents,
Happy as can be-we
Break our backs
To achieve popularity.
Three sharp whacks,
Faith and hope and charity.
Once we knocked a pair of silly sluts out
Just behind the 'horse and plough',
Dragged them round to where the railing juts out,
Bellowing their guts out,
Blimey, what a row!
We had to cosh 'em proper,
Then we saw a copper
Starting to pursue
Then we cried vibrato,
'how's your old tomato?'
And the same to you!