Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jonathan Groff
Jonathan Groff
Performer
Tom Alan Robbins
Tom Alan Robbins
Performer
Will Van Dyke
Will Van Dyke
Piano
Dena Tauriello
Dena Tauriello
Drums
Sue Williams
Sue Williams
Electric Bass Guitar
Nate Brown
Nate Brown
Electric Guitar
Mason Ingram
Mason Ingram
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Menken
Alan Menken
Songwriter
Howard Ashman
Howard Ashman
Songwriter
Will Van Dyke
Will Van Dyke
Orchestrator
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Alan Menken
Alan Menken
Producer
Frank Wolf
Frank Wolf
Mixing Engineer
Michael Mayer / 1280678
Michael Mayer / 1280678
Producer
Will Van Dyke
Will Van Dyke
Producer
Hunter Arnold
Hunter Arnold
Executive Producer
Rob Ahrens
Rob Ahrens
Executive Producer
Tom Kirdahy
Tom Kirdahy
Executive Producer
Gavin Lurssen
Gavin Lurssen
Mastering Engineer
Reuben Cohen
Reuben Cohen
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

He'll think about it, he'll think about it! I don't like that guy, Mr Mushnik And you should hear the way he talks to Audrey! Gott in Himmel, no The kid just said he'd mull it over! No wonder she looks so unhealthy It's enough to make you sick! If he left me, if Seymour left me Why then I'd be right back where I started which was broke and starving Sweet and good and beautiful as she is She deserves a prince, not a sadistic creep like him! Close to bankrupt What a louse! Beset, beffudled, and bereft - that's what I'd be if Seymour left He's a disgrace to the dental profession! Seymour! Sir? Seymour, how would you like to be my son? (Aah!) How would you like to be my own adopted boy I never liked him much before But now the cash, it's in the drawer I've got no choice - I'm much too poor Say yes! What for? Seymour, I want to be your dad I want to see you climbing up my family tree I used to think you left a stench, but now I see that you're a mench So I'm proposing be my son! Mushnik and son! Sounds great Three words with a ring of fate So, ay you'll incorporate with me A florist's dream come true Mushnik and his boychick, you What business we'll do for F.T.D How 'bout it, Seymour, be my son! Just say the word, I'll have my lawyer on the phone! Now, Mr Mushnik, don't be rash You always said that I was trash! Oh I was joking! Sir, I'm choking! 'Scuse the physical expression Of my pride of the sweet paternal mishegoss I've had pent up inside! Gee So? Well Well? I You! Go ahead and say it, Seymour Tell me that you will Gee, I'd really like to, but I'll hold my breath until Okay, you win! I'll be your son! Horray, I win! He'll be my son! Draw up the papers, dad I'm touched, I really am And when you reach age eighty three I'll let you come move in with me You swear? I promise! What a son! Mushnik and son, that's that Officially I'm your brat Consider the matter closed and done Now to the world, let's stick Our senior and junior shtick Through thin and through thick Through sloppy and slick So come, kiss me quick! Please don't make me sick Mushnik and son!
Writer(s): Alan Menken, Howard Elliott Ashman Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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