It is the way of Klingons to be known by our elite,
 So the Diplomatic Corps was sent to show we are discreet,
 The problem is to keep ourselves from stomping on your feet,
 'Cause the universe is ours!
 
     Glory, glory, what's it to ya?
     Pretty soon we're gonna screw ya.
     So you better get it straight, it's to us you'll abdicate,
     'Cause the universe is ours!
 
 Kommander Krass was put in charge to teach us to be good.
 To the Terran ambassador, he typified solicitude.
 When the ambassador was caught spying, Krass saluted brotherhood ~
 Right between the eyes.
 
 Beware our medic, Kwak, whose anesthetic is a shoe.
 One day he belted Krass for fun and broke his arm in two.
 But when it came to mending bones, Kwak knew just what to do,
 Because he was First Aide.
 
 Krass' first assistant, Korb, could crush a phaser in one hand.
 With two could bend a steel bar or lift a baby grand.
 More powerful than a locomotive ... shame he left our band.
 He flunked the physical.
 
 Krok can give a fine display with his nunchako sticks.
 The Corps is proud to see him demonstrate his round of tricks.
 But they aren't the only kind with which old Krok is known to mix,
 He really prefers punji.
 
 Concerning moral matters, Kreek the chaplain's never lax.
 If he can't convert you with his words, he'll do it with his axe.
 Yes, his methods make the crew appreciate the old song's facts,
 Mainly, "Nearer my God to Thee."
 
 Our engineering officer knows zilch from mechanics.
 He's a hopeless case in Chemistry and worse still at Physics.
 But still he keeps his job because the one thing Klutch can fix,
 Is the KDC with broads.
 
 The short, top-heavy one is Krotch, she travels with our horde.
 She is the perfect hostess, even helps Krass sheath his sword.
 Each time we see her on the bridge we glad that she's aboard,
 Because she's our relief.
 
 New Verses By Irving Quiznowski
 
 K'b'ar, he is our torturer. He plays on his guitar,
 He'll staple gun you to your chair so you cannot run far.
 He's just so unbearable, he clears the whole damn bar,
 By missing every chord!
 
 Kthulu's our new chaplain and he saves our souls with style.
 He's sure the Old Ones will return in just a little while.
 His prayer book has intelligence that really is quite vile.
 It's the Necronomicon.
 
 Between the work and worry our Kaffiene stays up all night.
 The children run her ragged and they cause this nasty plight.
 If it wasn't for the heavy chains, I'm sure that she'd take flight,
 Screaming "Klingons eat their young!"
 
 Kovert's our Fearless Leader and he keeps us all in line.
 He checks the posts on schedule and makes sure things are fine.
 When we get free the trouble starts, it happens all the time.
 Then it's up against the wall.
 
 Kabong ~ he mocks the Terrans with his auctioneering skills.
 He strips them of their cash with help from all his well-trained shills.
 He racks up more in money than he ever could in kills,
 He claims that it's an art.
 
 K'mplain, she is our craftsman and she works a lot with lead.
 She uses it with dinner and she plays with it in bed.
 We don't mind the side affects that seem to mess her head,
 For x-rays we abhor!