Hey come all you cadets and hear what I say.
 It's work and it's worry that gets you your pay.
 And you slave for your booze at the end of the day.
 And then it's for your supper you're singing.
 But sometime next year if our contract comes through,
 Well, we all might GET to play Klingon.
 
 Come hang up your baggy green ghis on the racks.
 And put on your boots and your sexy tight blacks.
 And put a short coat of blue glitz on your backs.
 It's a whole new look you'll be seein'.
 The men have got shoulders. The women got legs.
 You can STRUT your stuff as a Klingon.
 
 As a Dorsai you've got to be calm and polite;
 Make nice to people you'd much rather smite.
 But save up your stores of frustration and spite.
 New hope toward us is wingin'.
 Say everything you've been wanting to say
 And be rude to BOOT as a Klingon.
 
 The work is still hard and the makeup's a pain.
 But autograph hunters go after your name.
 And fans beg for pictures again and again,
 The flashbulbs around you are winkin'.
 In spite of the work, well, one thing is quite clear.
 You can really make TIME as a Klingon.