The silent nights get lonely,
The daydreams go away.
I'm left with only night dreams
And little left to say.
My quarters, dark and empty,
A fortress made of glass,
Seems shattered all too
For I'm up to my ass in
Tribbles every place but here;
Their voices fill the air!
Their little furry faces gaze
At you from everywhere.
So far they've caused a major brawl,
A Trader's suicide;
The Klingons cleared this quadrant
Because they're on our side.
Now as Captain, I am quite obliged
To suffer this with cheer,
But after just one baby boom
The bridge is never clear of
Tribbles in the engine room --
Poor Scotty's at wits end.
Just when we think we've found the last,
They reproduce again!
They're eating all our food, our clothes,
Cosmetics, lubricants,
The turbo-lifts are choked with
Little uncles, little aunts.
There's nowhere we can run to
That isn't overrun;
They always come in families --
There's no such thing as one!
Now Spock is trying very hard
To study them his best,
He keeps requesting more
When all we want are less.
Tribbles in our toiletries
(In our toilets as well).
And if I had God's power
I would damn the lot to... well...
A life of sweet sterility
As key chains, powder puffs,
As doorknob warmers, catnip toys,
Pin cushions, false fur cuffs.
But life is back at half-light speed,
We're back on normal course.
The tribbles have been mailed away
(To the Klingons' great remorse).
But 'neath my pillow, late at night
I feel a tuft of fur.
Just as I think, "Oh, God! It can't be!"
I hear the tell tale purr of
Tribbles! Will they ever leave?
Oh, can we ever win?
It's really just beginning
When I thought it was the end.