‘Twas the night before the budget
Here’s a Hoboken411 Reader Mail entry for today! Submitted by an anonymous resident.
‘Twas the Night before the Budget
‘Twas the night before the budget, when all through City Hall
every tax payer was stirring, no one it seems was having a ball.
The over-expenditures were hidden from the Council with flair,
in hopes that the State Finance Board soon would be there.
The City Employees were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of big fat pensions danced in their heads.
With Andriani in his white Klan hood, and Roberts exceeding the cap,
the citizens of Hoboken were sure getting tired of all of this crap.
But then towards the end of year, there arose such a clatter,
Roberts sprang from Mantoloking to see what was the matter.
Away to the “Emergency Meeting” citizens flew like a flash,
then heard the Mayor and England sputter that they had run out of cash.
The sun setting on the new ratable Maxwell Place Condos
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to the taxpayers wondering eyes should appear,
but an under-funded budget with a feckless Mayor, quite possibly queer.
With an Police Captain driver, so connected and called by the name “Stick”,
I knew in a moment it must be the Mayor who made our finances sick.
More dishonest than Nixon, and playing all sorts of political games,
he stammered and shouted and called the City Council by name:
“Now Mason! Now Giacchi!
Now, Zimmer and Russo!
On, Cunningham! On, Cammarano!
On, Castellano, Ramos and Labruno!
Please pass my budget!
And move forward at City Hall!
Bond away! Bond away!
Bond away all!“
READ THE REST AFTER THE JUMP!!
(‘Twas the night before the (Hoboken) budget, continued…)
Blowing smoke up the taxpayers ass like hurricane Katrina SWAT he did try,
when the Mayor was met with resistance, “Blame Mason”, he would cry,
so up to the big house at Trenton the Mayor flew,
with the Budget full of well-tailored contracts, and extra expenditures too.
He was dressed all preppy, he looked his Mayoral best,
he was wearing his trademark clothing, a red sweater vest.
With a bundle of raises, promotions and the Patronage Mill at his back,
He laid into the council and planned his attack.
His eyes–how they twinkled! His chins, how many!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like Bernie Kenny!
His lying fat mouth was drawn up like a ribbon,
There was almost no limit to the Patronage he had given.
The Mayor was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A twinkle of his eye and a ribbon cutting ceremony,
almost made me forget about the shortage of City hall money.
He spoke many words, but seemed incapable of actually doing work,
and denied any wrongdoing and acted like a jerk.
And laying the blame on the City Council in imperfect prose,
yet the budget under his administration geometrically rose.
He sprang to his limo, to the City Council a bristle,
And away went the Mayor like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere Romano drove out of sight,
“Happy 2008 Budget to all, The ‘Patronage Mill’ of Hoboken puts up one hell of a fight!”