Ode to all Red Shirts, dead or alive

“He’s Dead, Jim” Dr McCoy

Being a Red Shirt is never easy

Wearing a red shirt
Feeling like about to get hurt
The target is painted on my back
No time for sleep or a snack
I know I am not really cherished
And quite soon to be perished
Since I am mainly used as cannon fodder
Even though I am none the odder
Than a yellow or blue shirted one
So, now my time has come
And with the beat of the drum
I will march into my doom
Proudly, staring into the gloom
After all it is my duty
And that is the beauty
Of being a Red Shirt