When we pulled into Argo port in need of sky and trees,
We all assumed we’d be allowed to worship as we’d please.
But when one landing party tried to beam down in the nude,
We learned that Argo’s colonists were Bible-thumping prudes.
Chorus:
And we’re banned from Argo, just for spite.
Banned from Argo just for dancing around at night.
We thought we'd go and worship here for just four days or five,
But Argo nearly burned us all alive.
Our Engineer went with some friends to worship in the wood.
The shore police were quite convinced they were up to do no good.
They said We’ll have no witches here! ; our Engineer just laughed
And said he’d beam aboard again to practice in his craft.
Our Doctor went out shopping and he came back with a steer.
The customs people eyed the beast and primly said Oh, dear.
This must be for your med research. The Doctor said Like hell!
It’s the sacrifice Apollo wants each year to keep us well.
Our Lady of Communications beamed down with a drum,
And opened hailing frequencies to the ghosts in Kingdom Come.
The dead phone their descendants now each night by telescreen:
All bones and gore, for the flesh they wore is nowhere to be seen.
Our Captain gives his service to his goddess every day.
But shore leave often tempts the man to try and slip away.
Her sensors found him with five whores he’d picked up in a bar.
She beamed him home, and beamed the whores to the Ladies’ Church Bazaar.
Some crewmen held a circle in an Argo city park.
They’d beamed into a timezone where the sky was clear and dark.
The noise woke all the neighbors and they came out armed with rocks,
But turned and fled in terror when they caught a glimpse of Spock.
Our crew is StarFleet’s finest and perhaps its most diverse.
With sixty-two religions, I suppose we could do worse.
We’re heading out from Argo now, but plan to come back soon
With several hundred photon bombs for bringing down the moon.