A Visit From St. Ron
'Twas the night before skiffy would show us the last,
Ten eps that would get all our hearts beating fast;
The Cavils were hung by the goo bath with care,
In hopes the last Cylon soon would be there;
Tory was nestled all snug in her bed,
While outside in space Cally drifted by, dead;
And Laura in her 'kerchief, Lee not flying CAP,
Were butting their heads o’er political craaap,
When from CIC there arose such a clatter,
They jumped to the Dradis to see what was the matter.
Away to his station Gaeta moved like a snail,
Wondering, “When I stabbed Baltar, why did I fail?”
The blips on the screen showed something was close,
And he thot, “When will Hoshi bring my next dose?”
When, what to Tigh’s wondering eye should appear,
But a beaten-up basestar with Eights quivering in fear.
Adama unlatched his big phone with a click,
And “Action stations” was soon booming through the old ship.
More rapid than Sam in a Pyramid game,
The Viper jocks down in Joe’s Bar did exclaim,
"Now, Racetrack, now Rookie, Hotdog and Kingston,
On Starbuck, on Seelix, Tailgate and T-Bone!"
Through launch tubes they sped, their engines a’howl,
And even Lee piloted one, in a towel.
As soon as they launched, Racetrack saw in the sky,
“Some kind of small ship,” she reported to Tigh.
So up to the landing bay entrance they flew,
With the strange little craft, and an escort or two.
And then, with Marine detail leading the way,
Adama and Roslin approached the red sleigh.
As the ice in his whiskey glass swirled gently 'round,
Ol’ RDM left his cockpit with a bound.
He was wearing blue Levi’s and a shirt from the Gap,
And suddenly someone cried out, “It’s a trap!”
A bundle of scripts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a grad student opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples, how evil!
I saw now how Cavil became such a skeeve-l.
His cruel sharp mind, it worked like a clock,
And the beard on his chin made him look like Bad Spock;
The butt of a cig he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a voice that was pleasant,
'Specially when big noisy trash trucks weren’t present.
His hair, it was poofy; there was so much of it,
I knew there’d be some who’d find reason to covet;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had oodles to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He killed all the redshirts; teased he’d bring back ol’ Dirk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, off the soundstage he rose;
He made for L.A., to cast and crew gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But he said to the crowd, as he swerved to avoid it,
“It’s been a great ride; hope you enjoyed it.”
Merry Christmas to Chuck, Sean, and Audra,
and all our GWC friends
Lady D and Topgun
