(RS) "Of all the luck! Here's Peter F**k..." The Twelve F**ks

Of all the luck! 
Here's Peter F**k.
I'd ask him, "Wha-a-a-a-zup...?" 
but Pete ain't one to talk.

Men dare not duck 
the Law of F**k.

Alas, it's the gas: 
it's not fast; it's not thick.

Half Jim, half Huck: 
that's Barton F**k.

His film's gone unfathom'd, 
some cineastes think.

To utter, "Things suck 
at U. of F**k!"

may put all your 
scholarship money at risk.

It ain't no duck, 
Umberto's F**ke,

just the darlingest doggie. 
So: what's not to like!

They strum and pluck 
those tunes called 'f**k.'

They inflame. They enrage. 
They perturb. They provoke.

Above the ruck-
us, Brother F**k.

He's a wizkint in Physics. 
(We don't mean the jock.)

Tuck into your tuck, 
but use your f**k.

(If it's pigeon breast, 
best requisition a spork.)

Don't pass da buck! 
Bring in da f**k,

be you R2 da rapper 
or P.U. da skunk.

No jive! No shuck! 
Just Eminem's F**K.

It's useless...unless your skin's 
beige, brown or black.

It's run amok, 
the dotcom F**K.

Its bite: is it better 
or worse than its bark...?

More f**ks...? I'm stuck. 
I ain't no f***k.

Besides, I've arrived 
at a cul de sac.

     Just FYI, the 12 f**ks are 

Fauk, Fick, Fink, Fisk, Flike, folk, 

Fock, fork, funk, FACK, FARK and flack.