F-WORD

by Lou & Peter Berryman



There are pirates in their fetid galleons

Daggers in their skivvies

With infected tattooed fingers

On a blunderbuss or two

Signs of scurvy in their eyes

And only mermaids on their minds

It's from them I would expect to hear

The F-word, not from you



We sit down to have a chat

It's F-word this and F-word that

I can't control how you young people

Talk to one another

But I don't wanna hear you use

That F-word with your mother



And the lumberjacks from Kodiak

Vacationing in Anchorage

Enchanted with their pine tar soup

And Caribou shampoo

With seven weeks of back pay

In their aromatic woolens

It's from them I would expect to hear

The F-word, not from you



There's the militant survivalists

With Gucci bandileros

Taking tacky khaki walkie talkies

To the rendezvous

Trading all the latest armor

Piercing ammo information

It's from them I would expect to hear

The F-word, not from you



There are jocks who think that God himself

Is drooling in the bleachers

In a cold November downpour

With a bellyful of brew

Whose entire grasp of heaven

Has a lot to do with football

It's from them I would expect to hear

The F-word, not from you



There's unsavory musicians

With their filthy pinko lyrics

Who destroy the social fabric

And enjoy it when they do

With their groupies and addictions

And poor broken-hearted parents

It's from them I would expect to hear

The F-word, not from you



Copyright Lou and Peter Berryman

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