Jet Song
1957 Broadway Lyrics
RIFF
When you're a Jet,
You're a Jet all the way
From your first cigarette
To your last dyin' day.
When you're a Jet,
If the spit hits the fan,
You got brothers around,
You're a family man.
You're never alone,
You're never disconnected.
You're home with your own—
When company's expected,
You're well protected!
Then you are set
With a capital J,
Which you'll never forget
Till they cart you away.
When you're a Jet,
You stay
A Jet!
ACTION, BABY JOHN
When you're a Jet,
You're the top cat in town,
You're the gold-medal kid
With the heavyweight crown!
A-RAB, ACTION, BIG DEAL
When you're a Jet,
You're the swingin'est thing.
Little boy, you're a man;
Little man, you're a king!
ALL
The Jets are in gear,
Our cylinders are clickin'!
The Sharks'll steer clear,
'Cause ev'ry Puerto Rican
'S a lousy chicken!
Here come the Jets
Like a bat out of hell—
Someone gets in our way,
Someone don't feel so well!
Here come the Jets!
Little world, step aside,
Better go underground,
Better run, better hide!
We're drawin' the line,
So keep your noses hidden!
We're hangin' a sign
Says "Visitors Forbidden,"
And we ain't kiddin'!
Here come the Jets—
Yeah! And we're gonna beat
Every last buggin' gang
On the whole buggin' street!
On the whole—!
Ever—!
Mother—!
Lovin'—!
Street!
1961 Film Lyrics
RIFF
When you're a Jet,
You're a Jet all the way
From your first cigarette
To your last dyin' day.
When you're a Jet,
Let them do what they can,
You got brothers around,
You're a family man.
You're never alone,
You're never disconnected.
You're home with your own—
When company's expected,
You're well protected!
Then you are set
With a capital J,
Which you'll never forget
Till they cart you away.
When you're a Jet,
You stay
A Jet!
SNOWBOY
When you're a Jet,
You're the top cat in town,
You're the gold-medal kid
With the heavyweight crown!
ICE
When you're a Jet,
You're the swingin'est thing.
Little boy, you're a man;
Little man, you're a king!
ALL
The Jets are in gear,
Our cylinders are clickin'!
The Sharks'll steer clear,
'Cause ev'ry Puerto Rican
'S a lousy chicken!
Here come the Jets
Like a bat out of hell—
Someone gets in our way
Someone don't feel so well!
Here come the Jets!
Little world, step aside,
Better go underground,
Better run, better hide!
We're drawin' the line,
So keep your noses hidden!
We're hangin' a sign
Says "Visitors forbidden,"
And we ain't kiddin!
Here come the Jets—
Yeah! And we're gonna beat
Every last buggin' gang
On the whole buggin' street!
One the whole—!
Buggin'—!
Ever—!
Lovin'—!
Street!
Music by Leonard Bernstein, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim.
© 1956, 1957 Amberson Holdings LLC and Stephen Sondheim. Copyright renewed.
Leonard Bernstein Music Publishing Company LLC, Publisher.