Cast Recording Joseph's Dreams Lyrics

Joseph:
The sun the moon and sky
Bowing down before my star,
It made me wonder why
Could it be that I was born
For higher things than you?
A post in someone's government
A ministry or two

Brothers
The dreams of our dear brother are
The decade's biggest yawn
His talk of stars and golden sheaves
Is just a load of corn
Not only is he tactless but
He's also rather dim
For there's eleven of us and
There's only one of him
The dreams of course will not come true
That is, we think they won't come true
That is, we hope they won't come true
What if he's right all along?
The dreams are more than crystal clear
The writing on the wall
Means that Joseph some day soon
Will rise above us all
The accuracy of the dreams
We brothers do not know
But one thing we are sure about
The dreamer has to go

Poor, Poor Joseph
NARRATOR:

Next day, far from home, the brothers planned the repulsive crime

BROTHERS:

Let us grab him now, do him in, while we've got the time

NARRATOR:

This they did and made the most of it Tore his coat and flung him in a pit

BROTHERS:

Let us leave him here, all alone, and he's bound to die

NARRATOR:

When some Ishmaelites, a hairy crew, came riding by In a flash the brothers changed their plan

BROTHERS:

We need cash! Let's sell him if we can

CHORUS OF WEEPING MAIDENS:

Poor poor Joseph, what'cha gonna do? Things look bad for you, hey, what'cha gonna do?

BROTHERS:

Could you use a slave, you hairy bunch of Ishmaelites? Young, strong, well-behaved, going cheap and he reads and writes

NARRATOR:

In a trice the dirty deed was done Silver coins for Jacob's favorite son Then the Ishmaelites galloped off with a slave in tow Off to Egypt where Joseph was not too keen to go It wouldn't be a picnic he could tell

JOSEPH:

And I don't speak Egyptian very well

NARRATOR:

Joseph's brothers tore his precious multi-colored coat Having ripped it up, they next attacked a passing goat Soon the wretched creature was no more They dipped his coat in blood and guts and gore

Oh now brothers, how low can you stoop? You make a sorry group, hey, how low can you stoop? Poor poor Joseph, sold to be a slave Situation's grave, hey, sold to be a slave