Because No One Demanded It: A Friday Limerick

Here’s a little Star Trek-related limerick I wrote a few years back.

(And yes, I know I’m a nerd, but people love me anyway!)

You’re welcome, people.

The Love Song of J. Tiberius Kirk

There once was a man, name of Kirk,
Who was known to be somewhat a jerk,
If you think you may know him,
Keep reading this poem,
And you’ll see why he so loved his work.

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He zipped about, hither and yon,
Could barely keep his breeches on,
He’d love ‘em to death,
With each dying breath,
‘Till every last alien was gone.

He met a girl, she was—well–green,
Her brain in the place of her spleen,
He gave her some brandy,
To make her feel randy,
Made the worst mess that he’d ever seen.

“What gives you the right?” Jimmy said,
And he phased her ‘till she was quite dead,
Spock cleaned up the mess,
But had to protest,
‘Cause he couldn’t get Kirk out of bed.

The story is told of a world,
Where there lived a large-breasted squirrel,
Kirk took off her clothes,
While he tried to propose,
But found out she wasn’t a girl.

When Kirkie wound up in a tight,
He’d flee at the speed of light,
To the brothel he’d go,
And proclaim “Tally Ho!”
And there he would spend all the night.

One day there came quite a noise,
And it frightened Kirk and the boys,
‘Twas the Enterprise-D,
And it was plain to see,
They’d brought all of their deadliest toys.

They boarded Kirk’s ship in a hurry,
Their weapons were fired in a flurry,
Picard did a jig,
On the top of Kirk’s wig,
Old James T., he was starting to worry.

Picard gave to Jimmy a punch,
That made Kirkie lose all his lunch,
The bald captain said,
As he polished his head,
“Kirkie, don’t get your drawers in a bunch!”

“You look so confused, and I wonder,
If you know that you’ve made quite a blunder,
‘Cause amid the milieu,
Spock has taken your crew,
To relax on the Planet Down Under.”

Kirk screamed and he tore off his girdle,
No way could he conquer this hurdle,
Without Bones and Spock,
He was in a drydock,
And his blood, well, it started to curdle.

These days, James T. Kirk is a chief,
His starfleet command was so brief,
Picard, so it seems,
Did smash Jimmy’s dreams,
Wes Crusher became Kirk’s relief.

Young Wesley, although a big goob,
Some thought him to be quite the boob,
Did never fall short,
To put Kirk on report,
For sleeping in the Jeffries’ tube.


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