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Irish Folk song in the style of a 1960s revival sea shanty. All about how the universe always seems to have it in for Chief O'Brien, the hardest working Irishman in the Galaxy. Lyrics: A long time ago, when the Galaxy was green, There were Starbases, Bird-of-Preys, and ships in between. The pride of the fleet was a lad from the shore, Who could fix a transporter like never before. He’d a wrench in his pocket and a smile on his face, The handiest human in all of Deep Space. There were Phasers and Phase-shifts and Romulan ale, And a subspace anomaly wagging its tail. You’ll find no one tougher, though the heavens may frown, On the hardest-working Irishman the Galaxy’s found. He was cleaning the vents in a Jefferies tube, When a temporal ripple struck from a Borg cube. Suddenly Miles was his own great-grand-dad, The most awkward promotion he ever had! He was sued by a Vulcan for a logic-based crime, For existing twice over across space and time. There were Phasers and Phase-shifts and Romulan ale, And a subspace anomaly wagging its tail. You’ll find no one tougher, though the heavens may frown, On the hardest-working Irishman the Galaxy’s found. He once wrestled a Gorn for a self-sealing bolt, Missed dinner again, made Keiko revolt. Then he tripped on a tribble and fell through a grate, Landing right in the middle of a Klingon debate! They made him the Emperor for half of a day, But the replicator broke—so he just walked away. There were Phasers and Phase-shifts and Romulan ale, And a subspace anomaly wagging its tail. You’ll find no one tougher, though the heavens may frown, On the hardest-working Irishman the Galaxy’s found. At three in the morning the console still hums, Tea’s gone cold and the warning light comes. He wipes off the plasma, tightens one screw, Says, “It’ll hold—for now,” which is usually true. The universe waits till his shift’s nearly done, Then taps him polite-like and says, “Not quite, son.” There were Phasers and Phase-shifts and Romulan ale, And a subspace anomaly wagging its tail. You’ll find no one tougher, though the heavens may frown, On the hardest-working Irishman the Galaxy’s found.