A Christmas star trek poem...
tw...@isuvax.iastate.edu
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armourery securely,
In hope that no alien 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 hall there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and 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 through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger as 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 the autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling, our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the Hell is 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 once again, to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, "Worf, take aim at this dunce!"
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc" replied Q,
"I just wanted to celebrate 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," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor, and dug into his pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile:
"For Counsellor Troi, there's no need to explain.
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've some 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 just seeing her that way."
And 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!"
DAN MORERA X2585 P7083
---
*********************************************************************
* "Could be worse -- could be raining." * Daniel Morera *
*********************************************************************
* * mor...@pts4.pts.mot.com *
*********************************************************************
Eric Rountree
>
>'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
>Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
...
>But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
>"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
Come on, folks! How about giving credit where credit is due? I submitted that
adaptation two years ago, with a copyright notice AND credit to the original
author, Clement Clarke Moore. I resubmitted it last year with a second
adaptation using the Original Series characters.
I realise it is possible that the above poster recieved a copy of this poem
without my copyright notice on it, but someone, somewhere along the line did
the removing, which I find objectionable.
Now, before you all start screaming about what a petty bastard I am and what a
small thing this is, let me just state that I place a very high value on
creativity and put a substantial amount of work into items that I write or
adapt. The above poem is no exception. I recieved many positive comments
about it and am quite proud of my results. I want people reading it to know
that it is my work.
Make no mistake. I'm HAPPY that the thing has been distributed around as
far as it has. I just want the reader to know whence it originated.
I do apologise for any trace of superciliousness that might have crept
out in the above paragraphs. I was just a little miffed, that's all.
And I DO wish everyone a very happy and festive holiday season.
Thanks for your indulgence.
Eric R. Rountree
Dalhousie University
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Eric Rountree
>Come on, folks! How about giving credit where credit is due? I submitted that
>adaptation two years ago, with a copyright notice AND credit to the original
>author, Clement Clarke Moore. I resubmitted it last year with a second
>adaptation using the Original Series characters.
Since posting my disgruntlement above, I have received a number of very nice
and supportive messages from fellow news readers. This is most gratifying
and heartening, and I thank all these folks profusely for taking the time to
write to me.
I also received a request to post my other poem, which I wrote the following
year (Christmas of 1991). I repost it here for your perusal.
Since I wrote it after the Next Generation poem, I call it:
CHRISTMAS IN SPACE: THE PREVIOUS GENERATION
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the decks
Not a crewman was stirring, 'cept those having sex;
Their boots were all placed by the vent shafts with care,
In hopes that by morning they'd get some fresh air.
The Redshirts were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of stay'ng alive danced in their heads;
And Kirk in his gold shirt, McCoy in his blue,
Had just settled down for a nice Christmas brew--
When from the comm panel there came such a wail,
They sprang from their chairs, knocking over their ale.
Away to the panel Kirk flew, drenched in beer,
Snapped on the comm switch and barked loudly, "Kirk here!"
The squeals that emerged from the thing after that
Sounded just like the Devil was strangling a cat;
When, what to their bombarded ears should appear,
But the music of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,"
With a voice in the background, a murmur of talk,
That made Kirk exclaim, "Bones . . . That sounds just like Spock."
More rapid than bullets his syllables came
As he tested each circuit and called it by name--
"Cross Alpha to Beta, join Delta to Theta,
Route Kappa through Lamba, and Gamma to Zeta.
To the end of the circuit, the end of the line,
Now clip a resistor--there. That should do fine."
As Kirk and McCoy listened closely to this,
The comm unit speaker let out a long hiss.
So, off to the turbolift both of them flew,
With a mind to discover what Spock was up to.
And then, in a twinkling, they reached the bridge deck,
Stepped out of the lift and began a quick check.
As they went down the steps and were looking around,
From a nook Spock emerged, barely making a sound.
He was all dressed in gray from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with solder and soot.
A bag of components he had in one fist,
And held in the other, a rather long list.
His eyes didn't twinkle, his dimples were none,
Yet somehow it looked like he'd been having fun.
His mouth, at one corner, quirked up just a touch,
And one eyebrow lifted, though not by too much.
A soldering iron he held in his teeth,
And the smoke from it circled his head like a wreath.
He looked like a man with a task to complete
And nothing would stop him, not rain, snow, nor sleet.
His two colleagues stood there, dumbfounded by this.
McCoy chuckled softly; Kirk let out hiss.
The look in Spock's eye and the set of his head
Soon gave them to know he would not go to bed.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And tuned all the sensors then turned back to Kirk,
And pressing a button and counting to three,
He lit up the bridge like a huge Christmas Tree.
His work done, he nodded, and walked toward the lift
As his friends stared in awe at his luminous gift.
But they heard him exclaim, his voice with good-will rife,
"Merry Christmas! And to you all, Peace and Long Life!"
==========
Based on "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by Clement C. Moore
Adaptation Copyright 1991, Eric R. Rountree
Massive Onslaught
As Did I... I still laugh when I read it...
Bill Austin
>Now, before you all start screaming about what a petty bastard I am and what a
>small thing this is, let me just state that I place a very high value on
>creativity and put a substantial amount of work into items that I write or
>adapt. The above poem is no exception. I recieved many positive comments
>about it and am quite proud of my results. I want people reading it to know
>that it is my work.
Understand your feelings about creative works.
I enjoyed your poem quite a bit, it was not only interesting
but also quite funny.
Thank you for putting the effort into it.
>And I DO wish everyone a very happy and festive holiday season.
Hope you have a Merry Christmas, and a very Happy New Year as well.
baustin