Two tribbles, both alike in dignity A deep space station, where we lay our scene The Enterprise filled with fertility With reproduction spurred by oat cuisine
An opened bulkhead, and to Kirk’s chagrin The furry beasts did fall upon his head They just kept coming, chucked out of the bin And Bones, as usual, proclaimed them dead
The quadrotriticale they consumed - Discovered, now, that poison laced the wheat! So Sherman’s Planet would have been quite doomed If Miss Uhura hadn’t thought them sweet
Spock’s nervous system tribbles mollified - And left a Klingon saboteur denied.












