Archived at: http://www.alchemistmatt.com/twas/

Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.

See the Main Index for the complete contents.

Short Title: Spaceship

from http://www.earth-works.com/nightbeforexmasalien/

		Twas the night before Christmas,
		When all through the spaceship,
		  Every creature was stirring,
		 Including Commander Flongwhip.

			  Uniforms were thrown
		  On the floor without a care,
			As many aliens floated,
			Upside-down, in mid-air.

   And Commander Flongwhip with his Snotglop,
			   And I in my Fnack,
			Set a course for Earth,
			As we had a large snack.

	  When suddenly outside the spaceship
		  There arose such a clatter,
		That I jumped up from my chair,
	 Thinking we had hit a pile of matter.
		  Away to the spaceship window
		   I ran with Captain Fnash,
		  Tripped over Sargent Suttah
		   And fat Lieutenant Clash!
			  The moon on the side
		 Of our spaceship was shining,
		   And then I heard Sphignat,
		  Our spacedog, start whining.

			 When what to my large,
			Onyx eyes should appear,
		   But long, shooting flames
		  Coming out our ship's rear!

		   I turned to Captain Fnash,
		Who was now floating more quick,
		   And said, "Captain, I fear
		  We've run into Saint Nick!"

		   More rapid than dungshotz
		 Flew the reindeer we'd maimed,
	 And as we entered Earth's atmosphere,
			 I suddenly exclaimed:

		  "Poor, Dasher! Poor, Dancer!
			Poor, Prancer and Vixen!
		   Poor, Comet! Poor, Cupid!
		   Poor, Donder and Blitzen!
		  They got in our flight path
		  As we were starting to fall,
		   And somehow our spaceship
			  Ran into them all!"
	
		 To the tops of their antlers!
		  To the tops of their heads!
		  These deer had an accident,
		 And I hope they're not dead!"
	
			 As dry spaceship waste
			   Emits a foul odor,
		 When it's left to sit too long
			With no spinning motor,

		  Somehow these eight reindeer
				Got in our way,
		And since they're Santa's team,
		  They'll now be heck to pay.
	
			Then we landed on Earth,
		And saw the injured reindeer fly
			  Over our heads with
			 Huge, bewildered eyes.

			These poor deer had met
		  With an obstacle in the sky,
			 Up in the atmosphere,
	   Surely they were flying too high.

		 And then, suddenly I saw them
			  On our ship's roof,
		 They were scraping and clawing
			With each reindeer hoof.

			As I was turning around,
			I heard a strange sound
		And saw Saint Nicholas fall down
		   From the sky with a bound!
		  He landed on our spaceship,
		  Squashing four of his deer,
	   And then he yelled terrible words,
	   And I was filled with great fear.
		  He was dressed in black fur,
		   From his head to his foot,
	And his once-red clothes were tarnished,
		But from ship's fumes, not soot.

		  A bundle of broken toys was
			Slapped across his back,
	 And a pedal from some poor kid's bike
		 Went sailing out of his pack.

		His eyes - how mad they looked!
			His dimples, were silly,
	 His cheeks were sagging balls of fat,
		 His nose was bumpy and hilly!

		   His drooling, little mouth
			Was tied up like a sash,
		   And the beard on his chin
		  Was as brown as moldy mash.

			  The stump of a pipe
	   Had caused him to break his teeth,
		And the smoke from our spaceship
	 Circled his puffy head like a wreath.

			He had a blimp of a face
			And a hugely fat belly,
		 That was covered with remnants
		  Of peanut butter and jelly.

			He was chubby and plump,
			 A quite old, fat, elf,
   And I pulled out my ray gun--and aimed it,
			  In spite of myself!

			   A blink of his eye
			And a twist of his head,
			  Soon gave me to know
		   I had something to dread.

			  I spoke not a word,
		 But went straight to my work,
		  And began to neutralize him,
		  Before turning with a jerk,

			 And cramming a finger
			   Inside of my nose,
			   And giving a nod,
		   Into my spaceship I rose.

			I sprang to the bridge,
		   To my team gave a scream,
			 And away we all flew,
		Like we'd just had a bad dream.

	 But Earthlings heard me clearly bellow
	   As we warped out of Earth's sight,

		(C) Copyright 1998 Gina Anderson

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Short Title: Spanglish

From: Yvonne Russo-Devosa
Date: 2004-12-12

I can't tell you who wrote this.  It was shared with my family years ago, 
by an uncle who loves a good joke.  I don't know where he first heard it. 
While visions of sugar plums danced in their cabezas

Spanglish Night Before Christmas
Author Unknown

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through la casa, 
Not a creature was stirring Cararumba! Que Pasa?

The children we nestled all safe in thier camas 
Some in vestidas y some in payamas 
Their little cabezas were all full of good things.
They were muy esperanzo of what Santa would bring them.

(Meanwhile) Santa, esta in la corner saloon, 
Muy burracho since mid afternoon.
While Mama is sitting by her ventana
Shining her rolling pin, para mañana

When Santa comes back to his home, y si cuando, 
Lit up like the Star Spangled Banner, cantando 
Then Mama will send him to bed with a right.
Merry Christmas a todos y a todos good night.


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Short Title: SpankMag

from  http://www.spankmag.com 
                                      
    Spank!'s Night Before Christmas
(Blatantly stolen from the original poem by Clement C. Moore) 
            by Fiona Coll
                                      
   T'was the night before Christmas
   And at Spank! HQ
   Not a creature was stirring
   Well . . . maybe a few

   All Robin's pets
   Exotic or not
   Were hoping to be
   Next issue's animal mascot

   The editorial staff
   Were asleep in their beds
   While visions of next month's Spank!
   Danced in their heads

   And Robin with her Slinky
   And Stephen in his cap
   Wished to settle their brains
   For a long winter's nap

   But still there were stories
   And articles to complete
   Reviews to be written
   And people to meet

   So that all of us here
   In the land of frost and snow
   Could share tales of adventure
   With warmer climes below

   Tree graphic But some naughty writers
   Had not yet produced
   Their rantings and ravings
   There were articles on the loose

   "Hey Neasa! Hey Alison!
   Hey Rachael and Ted!
   FÌona and Daria and Rob!"
   Robin said

   "I can't help but notice
   This clock on the wall
   So write away, right away,
   Write away all!"

   So Popsuckles were finished
   In the blink of an eye
   Random Taggings and Ravings
   And Spout Offs, by and by

   And then, in a twinkling
   With Stephen's magic touch,
   With his programs and equipment
   And graphics and such

   Turned our writings and drawings
   And ideas, and more
   Into great looking Net pages
   For everyone to explore

   Those headlines - how they glittered!
   Those stories - how merry!
   Those logos and pictures
   And bright as a cherry

   The issue was done
   And with very good reason
   We could relax and enjoy
   The holiday season

   But then Shelby barked
   At the computer to show
   New email had arrived
   With the message "HO HO HO"

   clauss@northpole.com
   Was the sending address
   We looked at each other
   Trying to guess

   Who the prankster might be
   Who was playing this trick
   It couldn't . . . could it be . . .
   Jolly Old St. Nick?

   We opened the e-mail
   And gasped with delight
   "Happy Christmas to all
   And to all a good night!"

Copyright 1995 - 1998 Laughing Dog Publishing. All rights reserved.

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Short Title: SpodeFest

from http://hale.home.texas.net/dirtbike/spodefesttx98
   
   The official TX Spodefest 98 Web site - by Todd Heemsbergen
   
I was screwing around thinking of some stuff for Spodefest evenings.

Twas the night before Spodefest, RMDers covered the yard
The moron was missing, Steven Romer the retard.
The bikes were loaded in the trucks with care
For tomorrows event would be special and rare

Next please!
Mike Baxter
-----------------------------------------
The riders of Spodefest were all tucked in their bed,
while visions of wheelies all danced in their heads.
Their boots were set by the bedside with care,
in hopes that the morning would soon be there.

When out in the garage there arose such a clatter,
it was Steven Eric Romer! mad as a hatter!
He drew out a hammer and gave a two stroke a bash,
and Baxter went postal and turned Steven's head into hash.

Steve J, # 32,187 rider in the world (and climbing)
aged CR250 pilot
-----------------------------------------
The cops came and took Mr. Baxter away.
While there on the floor, poor 'ol Romer he lay.
Imprisoned and guilty, this was no jest.
Baxter was missing Texas spodefest.

While Baxter sat and pondered his place in this hell,
there arose a great clatter from the bars of his cell..
It was Steven Eric Romer on his 650L!

"650 torque will pull those bars down!"
"When I tried to tell you guys, you called me a clown!"

But I thought that I killed you! Are you a ghost? Baxter squealed.
If you weren't dead, it was still too quick to heal!

"Don't worry Mike, the blast I did not feel..."
"I have a plate in my head made of Chrome-Moly steel!"


                     98 XR400, 93 CR250
                http://www.off-road.com/~fusion1
               http://www.users.fast.net/~fusion1
           Rat Bikes, Trail Riding, Rental Car Abuse
-----------------------------------------

With a sturdy boot and a mighty roar,
Steve's bike barked to life.
Steve's yell to Baxter sliced the din like a knife,
"Stand clear of that door!"

A clank from a tow chain,
A mere twist of the throttle,
For the mightly XRL felt nary a strain.

A single "thud" came from the engine,
A courtesy nac-nac,
And bars across the floor lain.

Baxter lept up from the floor,
What he saw he could not believe.
A tear slipped from Mike'e eye and his knees felt sore,
He thought sure he would heave.

Mike sat down and spoke from the floor in the cell,
"OK Steve, I'l have to give in.
You ARE the A#1 rider in the world,
And the best bike is the X-R-6-L."

Jay C
'98 XR400
-----------------------------------------

So with a flip of his visor, and a push on the button,
the 650L coughed, sputtered and fell!
Stephen was trapped, under 300lbs of hell!
So Mike started laughing, and RMD chimed in,
"looks like we need a manly man on a KTM!'
So SXFans arrived to the sound of a ring-ding-ding
"just give me a minute and I'll remove this thing!"
--
Craig

'96 XR400R
-----------------------------------------

So he hooked up the chain and yelled "I'll give it a tug!"
On with the gas, out with the clutch.."DAMN!!!...I've fouled a plug!!!"
Steven Eric lay trapped under the 650L, hurt and broke,
Someone yelled "This surely is a job for another 4 stroke!"
Out of nowhere appeared the savior of the day,
It was a YZ400, being piloted by J!!
Jason, that is. "Don't worry Steve, I'll free you from that trap!!"
For miles nothing could be heard over the loud BBRRRAAAAPPPPP!!!
Alas, Steven had been freed and all were in awe,
"Jason surely is the man, and wow, he's so tall!!"

Jason Clishe, MCP, A+
Senior Network Engineer, Sequoia Diversified Products
jclishe@wnol.net
www.sequoianet.com
Great Lakes Windows NT Users Group
'98 YZ400F #560
The Clishe Files: www.sequoianet.com/personal/jclishe
-----------------------------------------

So Steven Erice Romer and his 650L
Pulled down those bars just get Baxter out of jail

When Baxter had realized that Steven Eric Romer was no clown
The next thing Baxter did was go out and get himself a wedding gown.
And they got married and had the biggest party around.

Into the sunset did Steve and Baxter ride
Both of the sitting pretty on Steve's new 650L super electra glide

Chris Barney

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Short Title: Spoonless

From: Ralph Pippey (pippey@nbnet.nb.ca)
Subject: Twas The Night Before ... 
Newsgroups: nb.general
Date: 2002-12-23 14:21:11 PST 
 

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Because nobody had a spoon


Merry Christmas to everybody and a Happy New Year

--
Ralph Pippey

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Short Title: Sports2002

from http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A34961-2002Dec24.html

With Rhyme And Good Reason . . . 
By Tony Kornheiser
Wednesday, December 25, 2002; Page D01 

Twas the night before christmas
And deep in the city 
The Danny got down 
To the real nitty gritty. 

"Where's the clear and the bright light? 
How come things have turned blurrier? 
Life was boot camp with Marty. 
That's why I signed up Steve Spurrier. 

"Pitch and Catch is Steve's credo: 
'We can always run later.' 
How on earth did I let him 
Talk me into those Gators?" 

You don't get higher profile 
Than with Steve and with Marvin, 
But if winning was eating 
The whole staff would be starvin'. 

And now to add insult 
Upon injury too, 
My Man Deion requested 
To start playing anew 

With the Raiders of Oakland. 
In the silver and black. 
Danny should have demanded 
His eight million back. 

If the Redskins are down, 
Then the Caps must be worse. 
They can't even inspire 
The opening verse. 

It's not that they're star-less 
Not with Jaromir Jagr. 
But their play is so cloudy, 
It's like they need a defogger. 

Teddy Log-On, their owner, 
Has been somewhat outspoken. 
"I've flushed millions," he moaned. 
"We don't try! I'm heartbroken." 

So on Kolzig! On Bondra! 
On Steve Konowalchuk! 
Finally you've reached .500 
Let's hope it's not just dumb luck. 
(I was hoping for a rhyme with Peking duck. What can I tell you?) 

For the Wizards this season 
Will be Jordan's finale. 
Unless he changes direction 
Should the Wiz somehow rally. 

He's a changeable fellow, 
As we've all seen before. 
This is his third retirement. 
Will the bidding reach four? 

Jordan came here determined 
To reverse years of stunkin'. 
He axed Howard and Richmond, 
(If he'd only brought in Tim Duncan!) 

Now there's Stackhouse and Hughes, 
Jeffries, Dixon and Kwame. 
Who, if any, will stay here? 
Who'll run home to Mommy? 

Meanwhile, Jordan is scoring 
Some games only two. 
"Every win is a good win. 
Don't you write that I'm blue." 

But next game he scores 30. 
And the next, 33. 
With a satisfied wink, he warns, 
"Don't underestimate me." 

(This wrap-up's strictly local. 
From that I won't budge. 
Though it kills me to omit 
The Fragile French Judge.) 

Not much else can we mention. 
There were slim pickings here. 
Though the usual tournaments, 
Golf and tennis, appeared. 

The Kemper's at Avenel. 
The field's never the bestest. 
On Sunday evening they handed 
The big check to Bob Estes. 

James Blake won the Legg Mason 
Over Paradorn Srichaphan. 
And if you can pronounce that. 
You're far better than I am. 

The most noteworthy triumph 
Of all in this place 
Was Maryland basketball 
Achieving such grace. 

They had seniors: Juan Dixon, 
Byron Mouton, Lonny Baxter. 
Seniors rarely get flustered, 
They don't wail, "I'm getting hacked here!" 

Mix in Steve Blake, Chris Wilcox 
And a long and deep bench. 
And it was obvious why 
Gary Williams could sense 

That this team could be special, 
Triumphant, unique. 
Gary was never afraid 
Of the words he would speak. 

Through November, December, 
February and later. 
"We're already good," he said. 
"We can be even greater." 

They beat Kentucky, then U-Conn. 
Beat the Jayhawks and Hoosiers. 
(They beat Duke at Cole Field House, 
With Jay Williams and Boozer.) 

Not a softie among them, 
Not a single marshmallow. 
No school's ever sent up 
More deserving young fellows. 

From sublime to frustrating, 
From the Terps to the Skins. 
Sadly, the recent year ending 
Shows more losses than wins. 

So as our punters and kickers 
Flail wide left and wide right. 
Merry Christmas to all 
And to all a good night. 

© 2002 The Washington Post Company


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Short Title: SquareDance

   Author:   Norman
   Email: mr.bones@worldnet.att.net
   Date: 1998/12/17
   Forums: rec.folk-dancing
   
Twas the Class Before Christmas

Twas the class before Christmas
and all over the floor
the students were struggling
to learn one figure more.

The punch bowls were filled
and the snack table spread.
There were hopes that the calls
would stay in our heads.

There was "allemande left"
and "allemande thar"
and then "slip the clutch,"
OOPS, I've gone too far.

"What did he call?"
"Did he say 'weave the ring'?"
"Are you my corner or partner?"
"Do you think we should swing?"

The head gent stepped
on the side lady's toes,
"Pass through, star through."
"That's not how it goes!"

The angels were lost,
they hadn't a clue,
they couldn't remember
a right and left through.

Then out on the floor
there arose such a clatter,
that we all spun about
to see what was the matter.

"Dive through" was the call,
it's simple enough,
'til both couples dive
and get knocked on their duff.

The caller was sweating,
you could see the mike shake,
his voice it was strained
and his grin was a fake.

It couldn't get worse,
but somehow it did,
as the dancers all stumbled,
tripped, reeled and slid.

No one could follow
the simplest call,
and hopeless confusion
reigned in the hall.

The caller was crying,
he couldn't take any more.
He abandoned his system
and ran for the door.

But some heard him mutter
as he fled from the site,
"If you call that dancing,
then have a good night."

    -----------------------
"When you're up to your ass in alligators
it's hard to remember that your job is to
drain the swamp."

Norman Lampert
mr.bones@att.net

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Short Title: Stanford

http://daily.stanford.org/Daily96-97/1-10-97/OPINIONS/OPScolums10.html

             The Stanford Daily Online 

          Column: 'Twas the night before . . .
          By James Silver

   'TWAS THE NIGHT before Christmas, when all through the Farm
   Not a noise could be heard, except frosh car alarms;
   The finals were graded by TAs with care,
   In hopes that professorships soon would be there;

   The faculty nestled all snug in their beds,
   While visions of tenure tracks danced in their heads;
   And I in my car, and you in your plane,
   Had gone home, since Finals Week drives us insane,

   When out on the Oval there rose such a clatter,
   Six police cars pulled up to see what was the matter.
   Around and around the cops ran in a flash,
   Chasing vandals from Cal, or some kids smoking hash?

   They ran on the breast of the just-watered lawn
   And one tripped and fell down, right on his baton,
   When, what to their wondering eyes should arrive,
   But a Marguerite packed with eight people inside,

   And a little old driver, so lively and quick,
   They knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
   More rapid than eagles the passengers came;
   St. Nick whistled and shouted and called them by name:

   "Now, Casper! now, Marc Lee! now Condi! and Heather Dunn!
   On, Raoul! on, Ramn!, on, Roger and Shoven!
   To the top of the Oval! Until Lasuen Mall!
   Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

   As Weenies that before the wild Cardinal fly,
   When they meet with a linebacker, topple and cry,
   So into their offices the officials they flew,
   Even though it was Christmas, they had work to do.

   The police heard the patter of feet on the tile,
   But shook their heads slowly - they were still in denial.
   While they scratched their heads and then turned around,
   Through the window St. Nicholas came with a bound,

   Or a wiggle, a scoot, a slide and a shimmy
   (Due to asbestos he avoided the chimney).
   He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,
   With a giant white "S" sewn onto his suit;

   A shiny brass keychain was under his thumb:
   St. Nick is a card-bearing Stanford alum.
   His eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples how perky!
   A man this impressive could not come from Berkeley!

   His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
   And his just-polished teeth were as white as the snow;
   The stump of a pipe he held down at his side
   (This is Palo Alto - you can't smoke inside).

   He had a broad face and a nose like a knob,
   You'd laugh if you saw him, then ask for a job.
   He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
   And filled all his stockings then turned with a jerk,

   I'd speak of his belly, but St. Nick was lean:
   You try to get fat on California cuisine!
   And laying his finger aside of his nose,
   And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose,

   But down he returned - there was an obstruction:
   The chimney was blocked because of construction.
   He sprang to his shuttle, to lighten his load,
   But he'd parked incorrectly so it had been towed.

   Still I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
   "Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night."

   James Silver wishes you a safe and sane winter quarter.
   Copyright © 1997 THE STANFORD DAILY.

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Short Title: StarTrekEnterprise

From: femme_fuhq_fest@yahoo.com (femme_fuhq_fest@yahoo.com)
Subject: NEW: 'TWAS ... Enterprise Style (A/Tu, others) [PG] 
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated
Date: 2001-12-21 21:55:07 PST 

 Title: 'Twas The Night Before Christmas ... Enterprise Style
 Author: T'Lin ( LinkyS@aol.com )
 Series: ENT
 Code: A/Tu (multiple pairings suggested)
 Rating: PG

'Twas The Night Before Christmas ... Enterprise Style
by T'Lin 0112.21

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the ship
not a being was stirring
except for ol' Trip. 

He hung the mistletoe 
in the corridors with care
in hopes of catching
his Captain there.

The crew was nestled
all snug in their beds,
as the chef's special eggnog
went straight to their heads.

With Jon in blue skivvies
I put on my red,
then we settled down
in our narrow little bed.

When out of the comm
there arose such chatter,
we ran to the bridge
to see what was the matter.

Much to our wondering 
eyes did we see,
but the rest of the crew
sharing holiday cheer.

Jon hugged me and kissed me,
then held me real close,
as he called to the crew
for a holiday toast.

"To Malcolm and Travis,
Hoshi and T'Pol,
Phlox and Cutler,
and the rest of y'all.

Your work and dedication
have been a delight,
my thanks to you
on this Christmas Night!"

    T'Lin
T'Lin's Fanfic Page - http://www.geocities.com/tlin_s/
Femme Fuh-Q Fest - http://www.geocities.com/femme_fuhq_fest/
  Round IX ... coming your way in Jan. 2003! 


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Short Title: StarTrekOrig1

Subject:      A Star Trek Night Before Christmas
From:         "Cheri Bogowitz" 
Date:         1997/12/17
Message-ID:   <01bd0a8f$a5ee4960$13c644d1@bogowitz>
Newsgroups:   rec.humor

 A Star Trek Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship,
Not a computer was working, not even a blip;
The radios were silenced by Uhura with care,
In hopes the Federation would forget they were there.

The crewmen were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Wrigley's Pleasure Planet danced in their heads;
And Kirk in his quarters, and Arex in his nest,
Had just settled down to a well-deserved rest.

When down in the labs there arose such a clatter,
Kirk sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
To the turbolift he rushed with a roar,
Dropped down two decks and burst from the door.

The light in the walls of the corridor pace
Gave dimness of evening to the Captain's face;
When, what to his suspicious eyes should appear
But three anti-grav units, piled high with some gear.

Behind them a fellow, dressed up all in red,
With a white, flowing beard and a cap on his head.
More stealthily than Klingons his helpers they came,
And he whispered, and motioned, and called them by name.

"Now yeoman!  Now ensign!   Now nurse and lieutenant!
Be quick now, commander!  We have a time limit!
To the rooms of the crew!  To the end of each hall!
Now dash it and darn it!  Be quiet you all!"

As good warriors ready to enter a fray,
When they meet with a leader, rush to obey,
So up to the sixth deck, the helpers they flew,
Each pair with a grav unit, and the gear piled on, too.

And, in a twinkling, Kirk gave hot pursuit
To see what this fellow would do with his loot.
As he hid in a niche, and was turning to spy,
Out of a room the fellow backed with an audible sigh.

He was covered in fur, from his foot to his dome,
And his body was rounded with stuffing of foam;
White trimming about his fat belly traversed,
And he looked like a tribble, ready to burst!

The end of a stylus he held tight in his fist,
And marked off each stop on his computer print list.
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a grin
That went almost unseen `neath the beard on his chin.

His helper was taller, and dressed like an elf,
And Kirk smiled when he saw him, in spite of himself;
The slant of a brow and the point on an ear,
Soon gave Kirk to know he had nothing to fear.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their chore
And placed a wrapped package inside every door.
Then meeting the others, all finished and done,
They headed back down, from where they had come.

Kirk sprang from his niche, to watch them take their leave,
And the last thing he saw was the red fellow's sleeve.
But Kirk heard him exclaim ere he dove out of sight,
"I'm a doc, not a Santa.  Hope I got everything right."


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Short Title: StarTrekOrig2

Christmas in Space: The Previous Generation
(aka Star Trek, the original series)
by Eric R. Rountree

'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 they¹d get some fresh air.

The Redshirts were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of stay¹ng 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 didn¹t twinkle, his dimples were none,
Yet somehow it looked like he¹d 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 Spock¹s 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 Saint Nicholas" by Clement Clarke Moore
Adaptation copyright 1991, Eric R. Rountree
This work may be freely distributed provided the above notice is included intact.

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Short Title: StarTrekTNG1

Christmas in Space
(aka Star Trek, The Next Generation)
by Eric R. Rountree

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armoury securely,
In hopes 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 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, should our eyes 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 want 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."
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!"

---
Based on "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by Clement Clarke Moore Adaptation
Copyright 1990, Eric R. Rountree
This work my be freely distributed provided the above notice is included intact.


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Short Title: StarTrekTNG2

Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Star Trek Xmas
Message-ID: <19961221135900.IAA24253@ladder01.news.aol.com>
From: stellastar@aol.com (StellaStar)
Date: 21 Dec 1996 14:00:10 GMT
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com

Twas a Star Trek Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas on the Enterprise-D,
On a routine short hop to Starbase 03,
With Data on duty in the command chair,
At Warp 6, the Enterprise soon would be there.

Just for something to do while the other crew slept,
He scanned where historical records were kept --
And with a blink of his eye and a cock of his head,
"Intriguing! Tomorrow is Christmas!" he said.

But no one was stirring, and he sought to find why,
And so he buzzed Geordi, who awoke with a sigh:
"Christmas? It's only an old holiday --
Now just let me get back to sleep, okay?"

"But is to wish Merry Christmas not human to do?"
And so Data wished it -- to the whole ship and crew.
Everyone on the Enterprise awoke from this clatter --
Picard rushed to the bridge to see what was the matter.

"What is the meaning of this noise, Mister Data?"
"Sir, is it not Christmas--?" "We'll discuss it much later!"

Just then Worf said, "Captain -- a Klingon Prey Bird!
Its hull has been damaged -- it's uncloaking, sir."
"On screen," said Picard, as the Klingon ship hailed:
"Federation vessel, our Life Support systems have failed!

A strange ship attacked us, inflicting the worst,
(though naturally, of course, we'd fired on it first)."

The Klingons beamed over, and the senior staff met,
To try and determine the source of the threat.
Said Picard, "Mister Data, an assignment for you:
Give all of these Klingons something to do!
They think it's the Romulans we should look for,
Get them all off the bridge, before there's a war!"

So Data departed, while the rest of the crew
Wondered: Romulans? Ferengi? If not them, then who?
Said Worf, "Sir -- disturbance on Holodeck Three!"
The entire bridge crew ran down there to see.

Roared Picard, "Mister Data, what the devil is this!!"
"Sir, I have taught the Klingons how to celebrate Christmas."
And so there they were -- on holodecks 3, 4 and 5
With synthohol, singing and Rokeg Blood Pie!

Soon the Big E was rocking with holiday cheer
Friend, foe, and family came from both far and near.
The Romulans showed up with some Romulan Ale,
The Ferengi brought goodies for free -- not for sale!

But a strange ship was coming, the captain was told,
With one crew member only, and a huge cargo hold.
aid the Klingons, "It's the strange ship that fought us -- attack!"
Said Picard, "On Christmas? -- Mister Worf, just hold back."

And then as the ship came into view,
Onscreen came its captain -- none other than Q!
He wore a white beard and a suit of deep red...
"Joyeux Noel, mon captain," was what Santa Q said.

"Tell those Klingons next time to not go so berserk.
You need good defense systems in this line of work.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be warping away...
Did you think anyone else could do this job in one day?"

"I'm sensing emotion," said Counselor Troi,
"Peace in the galaxy, Good Will and Joy."
And they stood on the bridge and watched Q take flight, shouting,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"


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Short Title: StarTrekTNG3

From: Dfbisbee (dfbisbee@aol.com)
Subject: Merry Trekmas! 
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Date: 1994-12-21 14:55:40 PST 

Re transmission of poem sent a couple of weeks ago. Merry Christmas to all
and a Happy New Voyager Year!

MERRY TREKMAS!
by DANA BISBEE
(Dfbisbee@aol.com)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
The computer was silent, with nary a blip.
The phasers were hung by the replicaters with care
Except in Worf's room; it lay near his hair.

Deanna was nestled all snug in her bed
While everyone's visions danced in her head.
And Picard in his ready room, a book in his lap,
Had just settled down for a short stellar nap.

When out in deep space there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his chair to see what was the matter.
"Red alert!" cried Will Riker from the bridge where he sat.
The cry startled Data, who was feeding his cat.

Away to the bridge Picard flew in good order,
With Crusher behind him, setting her tricorder.
"On screen!" he demanded, sitting down in his chair.
Then he stood, tugged his tunic, and beheld what was there.

And what to his wondering eyes did uncloak -
But Enterprise A! It was there! 'Twas no joke!
With a little old captain, with a wink and a smirk.
He knew in a moment, it must by Jim Kirk.

More rapid than warp speed his ship had just come.
And he called to his crew mates, he called one by one.
"On Scotty, on Chekhov, On Sulu and Spock!
"McCoy and Uhura - prepare for space dock!

"Rev up the transporter, drop shields and then beam me
"In the blink of an eye, onto Enterprise D!"
As wild leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Kirk dissolved in thin air. And oh what a cry

Was heard from LaForge, on transporter pad A,
When his visor saw Kirk as clear as the day.
"Take me to Jean Luc!"  he said with a nod.
"I have a present for you. I'm sure you'll applaud."

They were all in 10-Forward, every woman and male.
And Guinan was pouring the Romulan ale.
"Picard, you are lucky this holiday season,"
Said Kirk, as he smiled and then told them the reason.

"Your crew cannot act, your effects are from hunger.
"If you appear in a movie, the Trekkies will slumber.
"We'll give you a present, my crew and I will.
"We'll be in your movie and give folks a thrill.

"I'll wink and I'll smile at every in-joke.
"The people will think I'm a jolly good bloke.
"And your very first film will not be your last, 
"Because we'll be in it, the Classic Trek cast!"

And before they could kill him - their phasers were drawn - 
He said, "Beam me up, Scotty!" and then he was gone.
And they heard him exclaim as he vanished from sight,
"Count your residuals, fools! You know I am right!"


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Short Title: StarTrekVoyager1

Subject:      NEW:  A Voyager Night Before Christmas.
From:         mrfeathers@aol.com (MRFeathers)
Date:         1997/12/14
Message-ID:   <19971214022501.VAA00140@ladder02.news.aol.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.startrek.creative

  OK, I've never posted a story to the newsgroup before, and I'm somewhat nervous
  but I put this together this morning and sent it to a couple of J/C e-mail
  groups I belong to and someone suggested that I post it.  It's exceedingly
  unserious and was written just for fun.  No sex, no bad language.  Just bad
  rhymes and repetitive rhythm.

  So here you go.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and was quiet in the ship
Not a thing on the sensors, not even a blip.

Stockings were hung on the crew's quarters doors
by Neelix who researched  Earth culture, and more.

The crew were all sleeping (except beta shift)
and dreaming of holiday dinners and gifts.

(Well, not all, some were dreaming of each other instead
who's to say which is better, food, gifts or, well, bed?)

When up on the viewscreen arose such a sight
that the beta shift goggled and stared --try as they might

They couldn't believe what they saw on the screen.
It couldn't be, could it? No.  We hadn't just seen

Santa and sleigh and all eight reindeer,
Flying through space? In the Delta Quadrant, Here?

"Bridge to the captain" an officer said.
"Please come here and tell us we're not off our heads."

"Acknowledged" said Janeway.  "I'm on my way--
--Oh, and listen, Ensign, please call Chakotay.

The Captain and Commander appeared at their stations
and peered at the viewscreen in some consternation

"Sensors, Ensign--what is it we see?
"The sensors see nothing-- Captain, what could it be?"

"Beats me", said the Captain, "my guess would be Q"
"Or Kes, or it could be a Caretaker too."

The sleigh, it grew larger and as they all stared
came right through the viewscreen and landed right there

On the bridge of the ship.  "Ho-ho-ho!" they heard clearly,
"Happy holidays to all!  Do you know that I nearly

didn't find you at all?  This Quadrant is larger than I thought.
Oh, but never mind that--just see what I've brought."

"Excuse me", said the Captain, "Just who might you be
and how did you get on my bridge, if you please?"

"I'm Santa, dear Kathryn--I thought that you knew.
As to how-I don't worry about that, I just do

Whatever I need to in order to bring cheer
to those who especially need it, each year."

"Janeway to Torres.  Get up here, B'Elanna.
Bring Harry and even Tom Paris if you wanna."

"OK", said B'Elanna, "I'll be there right away."
The three appeared promptly and Harry said, "Hey.

Captain, what's going on?  this can't be real.
Santa and his sleigh, Chakotay, what's the deal?"

"Of course I'm real" said old Santa, "why wouldn't I be?"
Said Tuvok, "there are many odd characteristics I see.

Our sensors cannot sense you, you flew through the screen
--actually, right through the hull, after flying unseen

through the Kazons, the Krenim, the Vidiians and more
--with no beathing apparatus, without a warp core.

In short, Mr. Claus, you seem not to exist.
We can see you, it's true, but I can't explain this."

"Chill out, Mr. Vulcan-you've just got to believe.
It's Christmas time and I'm here to relieve

The tedium, tension and danger you face
as you fly your ship  homeward and homeward through space.

Why are you having such problems with me?
Just relax-I'll hand out your presents and leave.

Now, let's see, where's my list.  Ah. Here we are.  There.
For Seven I've got some clothes she can wear

that don't require painting on with a brush.
For Neelix a cookbook with no leola-root mush.

For Harry some music and the talent to play it,
For Tom, adult feelings and the courage to say it.

For the Doc, a real name, for Ayala, more appearances.
For Wildman and child we'll remember they're here.

For B'Elanna, dilithium, for Tuvok some humor.
For Chakotay a relationship that's not just a rumor.

For Kathryn, the understanding that having a life
will not throw the ship and its crew into strife.

That's it--that's the big stuff, the rest's in your stockings
now I've got to be going, got to get rocking.

The Alpha Quadrant is ever so far away from here-
and I've still got deliveries, let's hit it, reindeer!"

And the crew stood there in open-mouthed awe
as the sleigh and its driver took off through the wall

And quickly disappeared with a loud noise, like thunder
--leaving them to think over what happened and wonder

if their gifts could be true.  Can these things really be?
Well, probably not.  He forgot new TPTB.


----Mary, running and ducking.


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Short Title: StarTrekVoyager2

Subject:      NEW:VOY:PARO:"Santa in the Delta Quadrant" (Rated G)
From:         jowalsvi@sendit.sendit.nodak.edu
Date:         1997/12/26
Message-ID:   <883199857.1874722817@dejanews.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.startrek.creative

Here's a late Xmas present for y'all!  Feedback is welcome at
jowalsvi@sendit.sendit.nodak.edu, and this can also be found on my
hompage, http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Corridor/2171  Thanks, and have
a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns the toys, I just play with them.  All things
Star Trek belong to Paramount, not me.  Though, if they did, I'd be very
rich.  Anyhoo, this lil poem is mine, so if you spread it around, keep my
name and the disclaimer attached, 'Kay?  Thanks!

This is dedicated to LaurenBlues, one of my friends and fellow Parisites,
who is spending Christmas in Hawaii this year.  Lauren, I am so jealous!!
---

Santa in the Delta Quadrant
a parody of "Twas the Night Before Christmas"
by JoAnna Walsvik

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ship
all the consoles were quiet with not even a blip.
The phasers were hung by the stations with care
with hopes that an intruder soon would be there.

The ensigns were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of rank pips danced in their heads.
And Janeway in her chair and Chakotay in his
had just settled down for a long night shift,

when up from the viewscreen there rose such a clatter
they jumped up from their chairs to see what was the matter.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
but a big red sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!

The sleigh was warp-capable, all shiny and bright
that gave Lieutenant Torres fits of delight.
The driver was clad in all white and red
and he pressed a big button attached to his sled.

A transporter beam shimmered and gleamed
as onto the bridge Santa Claus beamed.
He marched up to Janeway and said with a smile,
"I know you won't be home for a while,

so I'm bringing your gifts to Voyager instead."
And suddenly, with a shake of his head,
Santa produced a large sack full of gifts
for all of the crew on all of the shifts.

For Janeway, a puppy with little brown spots,
Neelix was given brand-new cooking pots,
The doctor, an emitter to have as a spare,
Seven, a red and green catsuit to wear,

Chakotay, a pocket fire-starter kit,
(One that doesn't need hair to be lit.)
B'Elanna was given new Engineering parts,
For Tom, a holodeck program with darts,

Harry, a book on how to date Seven,
(First dates are covered in Chapter Eleven.)
And Tuvok got a new meditation lamp.
Then with a grin Santa sped up the ramp.

With a jerk of his head and a wave of his hand,
the Shuttlebay was filled up with shuttles again!
The kitchen was stocked with Alpha Quad food,
(Santa knew Neelix's cooking wasn't that good,)

and presents had been transported to all of the crew.
But before they could even say a single, "Thank you!"
He pressed a button and said, "One to beam down."
Then to his sleigh Santa beamed with a bound.

He shouted as the sleigh warped out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


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Last Modified January 7, 2007