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A Chat With Your Mom

(Lou & Peter Berryman, ©1984)

Oh the 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 There are 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 Chorus: 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 with one another But I don't want to hear you use that F-word with your mother There are militant survivalists with Gucci bandeleros 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 belly full 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 Chorus 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 their poor heart-broken parents It's from them I would expect to hear the F-word not from you Chorus

 

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