Merry Christmas, Foss Harbor Tenants!
A Budget Tale
T’was the night before Budget and all through the grounds,
Not a tenant was stirring except the Guard doing rounds.
The stockings were hung by the masts with care,
In hopes that our government would not leave them bare.
The vessels were nestled all snug in their slips,
While their radars monitored the on-going blips.
And I with my flak jacket armed with a Mac,
Had just settled down for a long budget chat.
When out on the dock there rose such a clatter,
The Guard inspected to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I moved like a tug,
Cleared the condensation and then tripped on the rug.
The moon on the bow of the newly purchased yacht,
Gave the luster of mid-day to the boats with the rot.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an extremely tight budget that forced out a tear.
With a little old income, so stretched and maligned,
I knew in a moment that I should be confined.
More expenses than ever, the budget it grew,
I became dejected, just what would I do?
"Now, Taxes! Now, Leases! Now Insurance and More!
Why all these expenses? I must go to war.”
“Lower the lease rates! Topple the tax wall!
We will fight for our marina ‘til the enemy falls.”
So back to face the drawing board, the manager, I flew,
With a handful of implements for crafting budget stew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the deck,
It was me with the budget, wringing its neck.
It wasn’t very pleasant and the budget almost drowned,
But when it resurfaced it seemed much, much more sound.
It was dressed all in 2009 moorage rates, from his feet to his head,
But his coversheet was tarnished as if he’d been dead.
A bundle of rates he had on his back,
They were identical to last year, with only one exception to the pack.
The tenants-- how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, their noses like cherries!
Their mouths were all drawn up in grandiose smiles,
They knew they lucked out, lucked out by a mile.
The stump of a budget still maintained his composure.
Despite the fact, he had more exposure.
And the expenses encircled his head like a wreath,
So the budget bore down and growled his big teeth.
Keeping the same rates would take a large toll,
To keep expenses in check was now his big goal.
He carried the weight of the marina on his frame,
When all of a sudden his face looked crazed & insane.
His eyes were darting all over the place,
When he spotted a marked door and his feet made the chase.
With a wink of his eye and a flush of the head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Cleaning the marina and smiling a smirk.
And laying his finger outside of his nose,
Stated,” I need some fuel” and pulled out the hose.
He sprang to his boat and opened the cap,
The tank filled in minutes and he gave a loud clap.
And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"I’ll be back next year and you’d better not bite.”
T’was the night before Budget and all through the grounds,
Not a tenant was stirring except the Guard doing rounds.
The stockings were hung by the masts with care,
In hopes that our government would not leave them bare.
The vessels were nestled all snug in their slips,
While their radars monitored the on-going blips.
And I with my flak jacket armed with a Mac,
Had just settled down for a long budget chat.
When out on the dock there rose such a clatter,
The Guard inspected to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I moved like a tug,
Cleared the condensation and then tripped on the rug.
The moon on the bow of the newly purchased yacht,
Gave the luster of mid-day to the boats with the rot.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an extremely tight budget that forced out a tear.
With a little old income, so stretched and maligned,
I knew in a moment that I should be confined.
More expenses than ever, the budget it grew,
I became dejected, just what would I do?
"Now, Taxes! Now, Leases! Now Insurance and More!
Why all these expenses? I must go to war.”
“Lower the lease rates! Topple the tax wall!
We will fight for our marina ‘til the enemy falls.”
So back to face the drawing board, the manager, I flew,
With a handful of implements for crafting budget stew.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the deck,
It was me with the budget, wringing its neck.
It wasn’t very pleasant and the budget almost drowned,
But when it resurfaced it seemed much, much more sound.
It was dressed all in 2009 moorage rates, from his feet to his head,
But his coversheet was tarnished as if he’d been dead.
A bundle of rates he had on his back,
They were identical to last year, with only one exception to the pack.
The tenants-- how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, their noses like cherries!
Their mouths were all drawn up in grandiose smiles,
They knew they lucked out, lucked out by a mile.
The stump of a budget still maintained his composure.
Despite the fact, he had more exposure.
And the expenses encircled his head like a wreath,
So the budget bore down and growled his big teeth.
Keeping the same rates would take a large toll,
To keep expenses in check was now his big goal.
He carried the weight of the marina on his frame,
When all of a sudden his face looked crazed & insane.
His eyes were darting all over the place,
When he spotted a marked door and his feet made the chase.
With a wink of his eye and a flush of the head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Cleaning the marina and smiling a smirk.
And laying his finger outside of his nose,
Stated,” I need some fuel” and pulled out the hose.
He sprang to his boat and opened the cap,
The tank filled in minutes and he gave a loud clap.
And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"I’ll be back next year and you’d better not bite.”
posted by Foss Harbor Marina, Tacoma at
11:46 AM
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