FROM JEAN-LUC PICARD (to the tune of "Let It Snow"):
Oh, the vacuum outside is endless,
Unforgiving, cold, and friendless,
But still we must boldly go--
Make it so, make it so, make it so!
FROM WILLIAM RIKER (to the tune of "Deck the Halls"):
Here's a vexing Christmas riddle:
(Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la)
Why must I play second fiddle?
(Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la)
How can I impress Deanna
(Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la la la)
When I'm number two banana?
(Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la)
FROM WESLEY CRUSHER, Starfleet Cadet
(to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"):
I'm at Starfleet Academy,
And I'd just like to say
I miss the opportunity
To weekly save the day--
To make things worse, I have to be
In some dumb Christmas play!
Yes, I'm bright, though I'm just a teenaged boy,
Only a boy,
And the Enterprise was my most favourite toy!
FROM DATA:
(to the tune of "Jingle Bells")
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh--
or so I am reliably informed; lacking a subjective
and intuitively perceived referent for the term "fun,"
I am able only to report the phenomenon as experienced
by others, whose individual perceptions somewhat colour the--
yes, sir.
WORF E-MAILED two different greetings.
The first appears to be to the tune of "White Christmas":
I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled,
Just like the one in Rec Deck Eight.
They all think they've hidden,
But this one didn't,
And I'm using him as bait.
I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled--
Their mental skills are rather lame.
May your foes die sonless, in shame--
And I hope you're wishing me the same!
The second is most easily sung to the tune of "The Christmas Song"
("Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire"):
Phasers flashing in the depths of space,
Ripping up an airtight hull;
Signs of fear on your enemy's face,
And life-support signs reading null!
Ev'rybody knows a Romulan's a spineless foe
Who lacks the Klingon will to fight!
Phaser beams set his torso aglow--
He'll find it hard to breathe tonight!
He knows that Worf is on his way!
And soon he'll be the object of the verb "to slay"!
And ev'ry slinking Rom and Pakled spy
Will soon become the subject of the verb "to die"!
And so I'm offering this simple threat
To Roms, and all Ferengi, too:
You'll be as dead as a life-form can get--
Merry Christmas to you!
-----------------------------------------------------
A Star Trek: The Next Generation Christmas
-----------------------------------------------------
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the arm'ry securely,
In hope that no aliens would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks--
except for the few who were partying drunks;
And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face to face...
When out in the halls there arose such a racket,
That we lept from our beds pulling on pants and a jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!"
The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed throught the din,
Gave a luster of Hades to objects within.
When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some geek who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we know in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger the closer he came,
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name;
"It's Riker! It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away, float away, float away all!"
As leaves in autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from out feet,
And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What's the meaning of this, Q!"
The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.
Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared oonce again to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the Captain, "you'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, "Worf! Take your aim at this dunce!"
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q.
"I just wanted to spend Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents and took a step back.
"I've brought gifts," said he, "to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightfoul for everyone here."
He sat on the floor and dug into the pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile.
"For Counselor Troi, there's no need to explain,
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf, I've got mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
"For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus;
For Data, a joke book; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of seeing her that way."
Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face,
And clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
