‘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!”
Date: Fri, 5 Dec 1997 10:04:10 -0500