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:
Why must I play second fiddle?
How can I impress Deanna
When I'm number two banana?
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 favorite toy!
- 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 color the--
Worf (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!
Worf: 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!
Councellor Troi's Yule-Tide lament
(To the tune of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas")
- I get no surprises out of Christmas--
Presents leave me blue--
I know what they're giving me
Before they do.
Who wants to be Betazoid at Christmas?
I read Jean-Luc's mind:
"What's the cheapest gift for Troi that I can find?"
Geordi thinks I'm a "Beta-bore"--
Worf likes Data more--by far.
Wes to Mom takes his whinin', or,
Sobs to Guinan o'er the bar.
In Will's dreams I'm in a reindeer costume
Bare at breasts and thighs--
He as Santa merrily
His whips applies.
Oh, Christmas is no fun aboard the Enterprise.
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