Post by Evil Spock on Dec 24, 2007 15:48:05 GMT -5
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Mirak house
Not a creature was stirring, not even Major Pita;
The stockings were hung by the replicator with care,
In hopes that St. Dfly soon would be there;
The captians were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While visions of battle danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my beret,
Had just settled down for a long winter's cat nap,
When out on the comms there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bunk to see what was the matter.
Away to the viewscreen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to dradous objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hema and his Pirate fleet,
With a little old captain, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Hema.
More rapid than eagles his coursairs they warped in,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Josh! now, Kumar! now, Maximus and Rhondo!
On, Vangard! on Hoohoch! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the Planet! to the top of the asteroids!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the frieghters, the coursairs they flew,
With the hold full of marines, and St. Hemah too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the airlock
The prancing and pawing of each little phaser hit.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the transporter St. Hemah came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his paws,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of EP he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Lyran,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the bags with Mirak EP; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into the transporter he rose;
He sprang to his ship, to his away team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down off a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he Warped out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all Mirak and Lyran, and to all a good-night."
So the Pirate Tale of Hemah grew throughout the ages,...
Spock files away yet another report to SFHQ
Not a creature was stirring, not even Major Pita;
The stockings were hung by the replicator with care,
In hopes that St. Dfly soon would be there;
The captians were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While visions of battle danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my beret,
Had just settled down for a long winter's cat nap,
When out on the comms there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bunk to see what was the matter.
Away to the viewscreen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to dradous objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hema and his Pirate fleet,
With a little old captain, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Hema.
More rapid than eagles his coursairs they warped in,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Josh! now, Kumar! now, Maximus and Rhondo!
On, Vangard! on Hoohoch! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the Planet! to the top of the asteroids!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the frieghters, the coursairs they flew,
With the hold full of marines, and St. Hemah too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the airlock
The prancing and pawing of each little phaser hit.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the transporter St. Hemah came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his paws,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of EP he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Lyran,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the bags with Mirak EP; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into the transporter he rose;
He sprang to his ship, to his away team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down off a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he Warped out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all Mirak and Lyran, and to all a good-night."
So the Pirate Tale of Hemah grew throughout the ages,...
Spock files away yet another report to SFHQ
