A Galactica Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas,
And all through the Bucket,
Not a creature was stirring,
Until Tigh muttered, “F#$@ it!”
Ambrosia in hand,
Sporting his eye patch,
He ran down to the hangar
And threw open the hatch.
To what to his wondering eye should appear,
But a fully stocked bar and a crowd full of cheer!
With Starbuck as bartender, manning the still,
Tigh ordered the Squadron their glasses to fill!
Unsteadily raising his beer stein aloft
The pilots all worried that perhaps he’d gone soft.
But he opened his mouth, assuring he was the same,
As he grumbled and shouted and called them by name,
To Tyrol, to Starbuck, to Hotdog! He cried,
To Racetrack and Gaeta, even Boomer, who lied.
It’s my honor to serve with the best crew in the fleet,
And here’s to a brutal Cylon defeat!
The Skin jobs were sleeping all snug in their Hub,
While visions of Resurrection flowed through their tubs.
A red-hat-wearing Cavil, with an Eight and a Five,
Magically pressed buttons that brought them alive!
Away to the Raiders they flew like a flash
Setting off “Con one,” on Galactica’s dash.
But before the humans could scramble out of Joe’s Bar
The hatch opened up to a sight so bizarre.
A Six in a red dress, trimmed with white fur and bells,
Backed by an army of Centurion Elves!
The Toasters marched up to the Galactica crew
Handing each human a present, or two.
Then Adama walked in and surveyed the scene,
He glared at the Six and the Cylons in green.
He paused for a moment at a tall Cylon elf
He wavered, then grinned, in spite of himself.
Climbing up on the bar to stand beside Tigh
The “old man” raised his mug and began with a sigh,
“All this has happened before, and will happen again
But at least for today, we’ll pretend to be friends.”
“The holidays are a time for great joy and of peace,
So, let’s set aside our differences, on this day at least.
A toast to lost loved ones, let’s reflect and recall
My friends, Merry Christmas! So say we all!”