And now, the combined voices of the Niagara Falls Reporter Chorale, Yuletide Christmas Chorus and Cocktail Bob's Saturday Night Tango Club join in holiday song to salute all you wonderful readers with au courant lyrics set to traditional seasonal carols, reflecting local events of the recent year. Please feel free to sing along.
To the tune of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear"
... with apologies to E.H. Sears and R.S. Willis
It came across through several years, with all the speed of mold,
The IDA, if germs were near, could not even catch a cold.
Industrial Development, that is the agency's game,
But records show the IDA is somnolent and lame.
Its stated goal is fine indeed: Let's make the economy fly.
Instead, it always does one thing: It sucks the taxpayer dry.
Flinging tax breaks hither and yon, for power plants and banks,
The greedballs take your tax dollar, and offer you no thanks.
HSBC, here's fifty grand, to build a data plaaaaant.
One day gone, you flipped the bird, and said "We really caaaaant."
Niagara County bigwigs all, we ask you this fine daaaay:
Do us all a favor aaaand -- disband the IDA!
To the tune of "Deck the Halls"
Lift a toast to this fine fellow -- Fa la la la la, la la la la
Yes, his name is Vince Anello -- Fa la la la la, la la la la
Ye may glimpse him at the malls -- Fa la la, Fa la la, La la la
Vainly seeking voters' scrawls -- Fa la la la la, la la la la
See the mayor leave City Hall -- Fa la la la la, la la la la
He'll be back some future fall -- Fa la la, Fa la la, La la la
Perhaps we'll see more office glee -- Fa la la la la, La la la la
But there'll be none from you or me -- Fa la la la laaa, La la la laaaaaaah
To the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen"
God rest ye merry motorists, let nothing you dismay.
Make sure you have your seat belts on, or gloom will come your way.
The State Police and local cops, to save your life, they say,
Will probably arrest you thrice, before the end of day.
Ohhh, tidings of anger and rage, anger and rage ...
Ohhh, tidings of anger and rage.
God save ye merry motorists, upon your shopping spree.
Roadblocks, radar and speed traps surely await thee.
Don't go one mile above speed laws, or flashing lights you'll see.
Canadians, don't cross the bridge; turn around and fleeeee.
Ohhh, tidings of hassle and loss, hassle and loss ...
Ohhh, tidings of hassle and loss.
Grinch and Scrooge are on the roads, wearing blue and gray,
And in the name of safety's sake, they won't go away.
But state and local governments, we hear from those who know,
Could give a hoot about your lives; they just want your dough.
Oh, fines of a hundred and more, a hundred and more ...
Ohhh, fines of a hundred and more.
To the tune of "O Little Town of Bethlehem"
... with apologies to Phllips Brooks and Lewis H. Redner
O sturdy tribe of Senecas, how fast we see thee toil;
Casinos and hotels spring up, it's like you've just struck oil.
Yet in thy bright aisles shineth, the slot machines each day,
For all the mopes and dopes whose hopes go spinning fast away.
O region's best employer, we tip our hats to thee;
Only a few years ago, we mocked you all with glee.
Yet at your poker tables, and 'round your roulette wheels,
It's hard to get a seat each night as losers holler "Deal!"
And now you have more jobs than Ford, or even GMC.
Your daily take exceeds a mill, or one or two or three;
Yet Buffalo is so dumb, they jerk you upside down;
But that's OK, it just leaves more for all the other towns.
Our governor first dissed your tribe, and tried to tax your smokes;
Your plan to block the Thruway, he thought was just a joke.
Yet now he is your biggest fan -- you lower his tax rates.
He's giving you a charter school, and all free license plates.
To the tune of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing"
... with apologies to Charles Wesley and F. Mendelssohn
Hark! The Thruway bosses shout: "Drivers, get your wallets out.
Just shut up and never mind; Each toll booth will rob you blind.
Joyful! We will spend your dough; Spend it fast or spend it slow.
As we shout yippee, hooray! Know ye that you have no say ...
Screw the rising price of gas, as we blow your hard-earned cash."
Hark! The Thruway fat cats holler: "Give us all your final dollar!
We hear the pleas that you present -- tolls still go up 20 percent.
The bonds were paid off years ago; But we don't give a crap, you know.
Hail! The joys of big state jobs; We despise you whining mobs.
Screw the rising price of gas, as we rob your hard-earned cash."
Hark! You scumbag Thruway suits; You're all a bunch of greedy fruits.
Promises you break with scorn -- but know ye this on some fine morn:
Know ye this in truth, forsooth: We will tear down your toll booths.
Public servants doth forsook us; Shove those tolls right up your tucchus.
Hark! All Thruway greedballs cunning: Your bad days are quickly coming!
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | Dec. 11 2007 |