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

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

(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

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

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

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