Mushnik & Son, Joe Pan's Version Lyrics

Mushnik & Son

Mushnik: He'll think about it? He'll think about it?

Seymour: I don't like that guy, Mr. Mushnik. You should hear the way he talks to Audrey.

Mushnik: Gott in himmel, no. The kid just said he'd mull it over!

Seymour: No wonder she looks so unhealthy. It's enough to make you sick.

Mushnik: If he left me
If Seymour left me
Why then I'd be right back where I started which was
broke and starving.

Seymour: Sweet and good and beautiful as she is, she deserves a prince, not a sadistic creep like him!

Mushnik: Close to bankrupt.

Seymour: What a louse.

Mushnik: Beset, befuddled, and bereft. That's what I'd be if Seymour left.

Seymour: He's a disgrace to the dental profession.
(An idea comes to Mushnik)
Mushnik: Seymour!

Seymour: Sir?

Mushnik: Seymour? How would you like to be my son?
How would you like to be my own
adopted boy?
(aside) I never liked him much before,
But count the cash that's in
the drawer
I've got no choice- I'm much
too poor-
Say yes

SEYMOUR. What for?

MUSHNIK. 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. Sound great?
Three words with the ring of fate.
So say you'll incorporate with me.
A florist's dream come true.
Mushnik and his boychik, you.
What business we'll do for F.T.D.
How bout' it, Seymour? Be my son! Little Shop Of Horrors - Mushnik & Son, Joe Pan's Version - http://motolyrics.com/little-shop-of-horrors/mushnik-and-son-joe-pans-version-lyrics.html
Just say the word, I'll have my lawyer on the phone!

Seymour: Now, Mr. Mushnik, don't be rash. You always said that I was trash.

Mushnik: (Grabs Seymour by the throat) Oh, I was Joking!

Seymour: Sir, I'm choking!

Mushnik: Scuse the physical expression of my pride of the sweet paternal mishegoss I've held pent-up--insi-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ide!

Seymour: Gee.

Mushnik: So?

Seymour: Well.

Mushnik: Well?

Seymour: I?

Mushnik: You!

Mushnik: Go ahead and say it, Seymour. Tell me that you will...

Seymour: Gee, I'd really like to, but...

Mushnik: I'll hold my breath until... (Holds his breath)

Seymour: Okay...you win...I'll be your son!

Mushnik: Hooray, I win! He'll be my son!

Seymour: Draw up the papers, dad. I'm touched, I really am. And someday when you're eighty-three. I'll let you come move in with me.

Mushnik: You swear?

Seymour: I promise!

Mushnik: What a son!

Both: Mushnik and Son, that's that!

Seymour: Officially I'm your brat!

Both: 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.

Seymour: So come kiss me quick!

Mushnik: Please don't make me sick.

Both: Mushnik and Son!!!