We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport Eighteen The hour was late and the talk was obscene, When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut Some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home All the engines were dead, and the life systems shot, And the ship leaking air, like the steam off a pot When the crew was accounted and all damage told, The last airtight chamber was the fifth cargo hold So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home So we yelled SOS with our beacons and flares, And we ran for the hold by the last standing stairs We sealed off the ports and we gave a great cheer, When we found that the cargo was twelve tons of beer So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home. We were fairly well mellowed when our answer came through, Via transporter sparkle and a brief flash of blue, 'Twas a space suited navy man, calm and correct. Though his green pointed ears weren't quite what you'd expect. He raised one long eyebrow as he noted our fun, And he calmly announced that our troubles weren't done For his ship was off fighting the raiders alone, So we'd have to reach safety somehow on our own So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home He said, "There's a space station, not far at all, We could reach in two days at a jet powered crawl Now jets are quite simple, we could build one from here, Just a valve-line to the surface from one tank of beer." So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home So we cheered our salvation, and we mourned for the brew, And we sealed on the pipes, as he showed us to do Then we opened the fuel line with the ship aimed toward home, And we rode to the station on a long wake of foam So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam, For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home So at last when his ship came to take us in tow, Just an hour from the station with three tanks to go, We drank up the fuel and were feeling no pain, When the navy man left us with a look of disdain So cheer for us sailors, riding in on the foam, We were drunker than lords by the time we got home
poor Spock...relegated to the rescue party of a partially pickled transport crew people are never at their best when they start to pickle. Proper Vulkan meet inebriated crew, good luck.
@@Gordon519 Oh my god you just awakened a memory in me I was playing the realism overhaul a few years ago, and launched the last module for my Jupiter transfer vessel that would assemble an antimatter collector in orbit, when the lifter got an engine failure. Luckily, the trajectory was already out of the atmosphere, but I couldn't raise the orbit with what I had left in the next stage, so I very quickly returned to the space center and pulled a museum piece out of storage, the lifter for my second moon mission. I manually jettisoned the payload and then flew after the ship, which was almost as its apoapsis. As the two drifted together, I decoupled the payload module (the extremely expensive antimatter collector), flew over the functional moon lifter, and coupled it on top. It was too heavy, though, so I let the whole thing fall, slow down in the atmosphere, and then performed a suicide burn, ran out of fuel, set the module to spin against its trajectory and decoupled it, canceling out enough momentum for it to roll down the mountainside. God damn engine failures.
I'm not even going to start on the plausibility of this. Although if they had power, it would actually have been possible to use beer for reaction mass.
We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport Eighteen
The hour was late and the talk was obscene,
When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut
Some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
All the engines were dead, and the life systems shot,
And the ship leaking air, like the steam off a pot
When the crew was accounted and all damage told,
The last airtight chamber was the fifth cargo hold
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
So we yelled SOS with our beacons and flares,
And we ran for the hold by the last standing stairs
We sealed off the ports and we gave a great cheer,
When we found that the cargo was twelve tons of beer
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home.
We were fairly well mellowed when our answer came through,
Via transporter sparkle and a brief flash of blue,
'Twas a space suited navy man, calm and correct.
Though his green pointed ears weren't quite what you'd expect.
He raised one long eyebrow as he noted our fun,
And he calmly announced that our troubles weren't done
For his ship was off fighting the raiders alone,
So we'd have to reach safety somehow on our own
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
He said, "There's a space station, not far at all,
We could reach in two days at a jet powered crawl
Now jets are quite simple, we could build one from here,
Just a valve-line to the surface from one tank of beer."
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
So we cheered our salvation, and we mourned for the brew,
And we sealed on the pipes, as he showed us to do
Then we opened the fuel line with the ship aimed toward home,
And we rode to the station on a long wake of foam
So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam,
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
So at last when his ship came to take us in tow,
Just an hour from the station with three tanks to go,
We drank up the fuel and were feeling no pain,
When the navy man left us with a look of disdain
So cheer for us sailors, riding in on the foam,
We were drunker than lords by the time we got home
its some 20 yard holes thro her steel plated cut
Thank you.
Also it's probably "life systems shut" and "all damage tolled"
@@cubelith7899 Nope. "Shot" as in ruined or worn out. And "told" as in "all told" meaning after taking everything into account.
@@thbran7417 no, it's twenty-odd, as in, 'about twenty'
Poor Scotty...
If they'd had his expertise, they might have been able to save all that beer!
Some space whales drank the beer that got vented into space, and now they're drunk and swimming backwards!
I bought a copy of this tape back in the '80's. It was at a Trek convention in Honolulu. And Leslie Fish autographed it. (Still got it). =Stefan=
Some vintage shit you got right there
poor Spock...relegated to the rescue party of a partially pickled transport crew people are never at their best when they start to pickle. Proper Vulkan meet inebriated crew, good luck.
*partially? XD
They sounded pretty thoroughly pickled, lol
Quite a yarn ... I read Poul Anderson "The Makeshift Rocket", they had to deliver genuine Terran beer to a Martian innkeeper... in 1962
I've always wondered about powering a spaceship with quantum foam. But I never considered Slusho! foam.
What a sacrifice...all that beer, undrunk!
been listening to this whilst playing starfield it just feels so right don't know why
Pity the Guardsman
God I miss Dr Demto
So much wonderful comedy..
Though if your willing to pay his website is still there with lots of episodes
🤟
Can anyone supply a tab for this?
Put it on your tab? OK but do you know how much all that beer would cost?
I did the math. Should cost about 21,800 USD
I don't think they let you make a tab that big. In fact I don't think they have that kind of amount in stock
So cheercfor me pirate who finally got home I was on top of a raft made of bone
CUZ I SURFED ON THEIR VESSEL UNTIL I GOT BORED
I mean the pirate vessel and got blown through a hole i was fine just mourned for their snacks
And yes i made it back whole
Oh man ! That was a real crime it was, attacking a beer transport? For shame ! What 's this galaxy coming to i 'm sure i don't know.
Did someone hiccup at the end? Ha.
yep XD
bite my lip this is so good
This's more Kerbal than Kerbals. :P
The shit I had to pull in Realism over hall when the engines failed would put this song to shame
@@Gordon519 Oh my god you just awakened a memory in me
I was playing the realism overhaul a few years ago, and launched the last module for my Jupiter transfer vessel that would assemble an antimatter collector in orbit, when the lifter got an engine failure. Luckily, the trajectory was already out of the atmosphere, but I couldn't raise the orbit with what I had left in the next stage, so I very quickly returned to the space center and pulled a museum piece out of storage, the lifter for my second moon mission. I manually jettisoned the payload and then flew after the ship, which was almost as its apoapsis. As the two drifted together, I decoupled the payload module (the extremely expensive antimatter collector), flew over the functional moon lifter, and coupled it on top. It was too heavy, though, so I let the whole thing fall, slow down in the atmosphere, and then performed a suicide burn, ran out of fuel, set the module to spin against its trajectory and decoupled it, canceling out enough momentum for it to roll down the mountainside.
God damn engine failures.
Hey try listening by hitting pause. It was normal. =Stefan=
This recording sounds a bit off, as if it were being played a bit slow. The tempo is a bit slower than I remember...
Cassette tapes tend to stretch over time and cassette player motors are not 100% reliable either
And the voices are too low.
Play it at 1.25 speed =)
ruclips.net/video/e0JyKHY764k/видео.html
This version plays at the normal speed, and with less audio glitches: ruclips.net/video/e0JyKHY764k/видео.html
;w;7 cheers to got home
Tapes.
I'm not even going to start on the plausibility of this. Although if they had power, it would actually have been possible to use beer for reaction mass.
+William Brennan Unless it were pressurized haha.
johnmburt1960
A lot less distance and spacecraft mass, and a lot more reaction mass, in that case.
distance doesn't matter in space except for travel time- no friction
William Brennan Thank you, Capt. Buzz Kill.
I think it was more likely 12 _tanks_ of beer than 12 _tons_.
This please Text File Lord.
tape's dragging.
Pleases*