Jeff Thompson photo

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THE CRAVEN *

Once upon Memorial Day, the blustery, dismal dregs of May --
Chilled us, filled us with fantastic terrors never felt before.
Ah, distinctly I remember how each shivering Hoover member
Squinted from the West veranda, checking out the reservoir.
"'Tis a hurricane," they muttered, "whitening all the waves offshore.
Let us tell the Commodore."

Bitterly I longed for sailing; out of third but one point trailing,
Needing just a touch of luck to triumph and improve my score.
Presently the Club Fleet Captain, muffled by the clothes he'd wrapped in,
Said, "The keg is now on tap inside the sliding clubhouse doors.
And in case you still are wondering if we have a race in store --
I've left it to the Commodore."

"Still," he said, "to give due deference to the racing sailors' preference,
Would you even want to race?," he asked above the whistling roar.
"On behalf of all the Snipers, do you think we're wearing diapers? --
That we wouldn't brave this hyperactive breeze, and even more?
Go!," I said, "and bid our leader - send us out as if to war!"
"-- He rules at 2:00, and not before."

Now the crowd directs its gaze where Mike Perakis rigs a Laser,
Sails awhile before he lays her mast down off the eastern shore.
"Doubtless," said I, "he's been drinking. Otherwise he'd not be sinking --
No! He's up! And now I'm thinking gremlins must have pushed him o'er.
Blame not the wind, sweet Commodore, and let us race now, I implore" --
"Cancelled!," cried the Commodore.

Softer now the wind is moaning -- passersby can hear my groaning,
Swearing, cursing curses mortals never dared to curse before.
But, despite my wretched whining, others seize the silver lining --
Mixing, baking, sipping, dining, grilling on the grill outdoors.
But like a surly Schwartzenegger, I inform the Commodore --
"I'll be back on July 4!"

* by Jeff Clark, with apologies to Mr. Poe

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Money For Nothing
(Cols. Recreation and Parks Fight Song)

Now look at them yo-yo’s, that’s the way you do it
You prey on boat clubs and you hike their fees
That ain’t workin’, that’s the way you do it
Money for nothin’ and your slips for free

Now that ain’t workin’, that’s the way you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain’t dumb
Maybe get a blister from your calculator
Maybe get a blister on your bum

We gotta sell them twice as much nothin’
Doin’ nothin’ is our specialty
We gotta bleed them boat operators
We gotta bleed them boat families

The fees they’re chargin’ at a real marina
Yeah buddy, it don’t compare
That bureaucrat says there’s a fee for breathing
That bureaucrat thinks you’re a millionaire

We gotta sell them twice as much nothin’
Doin’ nothin’ is our specialty
We gotta bleed them boat operators
We gotta bleed them boat families

I shoulda learned to prey on boaters
I shoulda learned to shake them down
Look at those suckers, doin’ all their own work
Man, we could charge them clowns

And he’s up there, what’s that? “Hey! Why?’n” noises
Askin’ that you use your own appraisal fee?
Naw, that ain’t workin’, that’s the way you do it
Get your money for nothin’ get your slips for free!

We gotta sell them twice as much nothin’
Doin’ nothin’ is our specialty
We gotta bleed them boat operators
We gotta bleed them boat families

Listen here now that ain’t workin’ that’s the way you do it
You flay the boat clubs and you hike their fees
That ain’t workin’, that’s the way you do it
Money for nothin’ and your slips for free
Money for nothin’, slips for free
Get your money for nothin’, slips for free
Money for nothin’, slips for free

[Ad lib and fade ]

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The Matt with no Fat*

I came to the Club
On a day that was hot.
I came to the Club
For a sail in my Scot.

At the dock was a boat
And a thin
thin
thin man.
The boat was light blue
And the man was light tan.

I said, "You're so thin.
And your stomach so flat.
You must be ..."
"I am! I'm the Matt with no Fat!"

He said, "Will you sail?
Have you come here to play?
Will you sail in a Snipe?"
I said, "No! No! No way!

"I will sail in my Scot.
I will NOT sail with you.
I have heard of the lunatic
Things that you do."

Then he laughed, and he said,
"Do not listen to that!
I am three-quarters sane!"
said the Matt with no Fat.

"I will prove it to you.
You will see I am fine.
You will see when I show you
These two friends of mine."

As he spoke two more boats
Bumped the dock at our side.
And Bump! Jump! jumped two men
grinning grins that were wide.

"These two friends of mine
Can be friends of yours, too.
The names that they have
Are Steve One and Steve Two!

"These Steves will not harm you.
They're funny.
They're fast.
They know what to do
with each Thing on their mast!

"I will ask them to make
Juicy drinks for your tummy.
They will make you good drinks
Out of rum that is rummy."

"I will NOT drink their drinks,"
I told Matt with no Fat.
"I Will Not
I Will Not
Treat my liver like that!

"Why, my wife would not like it.
Not one little bit!
No, my wife would not like it
If I came home lit!"

Said the Matt,
"But our sailing creates such a thirst.
Your wife will not mind
If you go sailing first!"

Then he jumped in his boat
And he pulled me aboard.
But it tipped on its side
And In! In! water poured.

"A thing you must do,"
said the Matt, "before sailing,
Is a thing that I hate.
It's a thing I call 'Bailing.'"

So I scooped and I splashed
And we sailed from the dock.
But we had not sailed far
When we stopped like a rock.

My head hit the boom
My head hit with a THUD!
and the Matt said to me,
"We are stuck in the mud!"

Said the Matt,
"You will have to jump out of this boat.
You must jump in the water
To help this boat float."

Then he said, "In you go!"
In I went with a splash.
And I paddled about
In the scum and the trash.

"It has worked!" said the Matt.
"I can move!
I can steer!
But to be on the safe side
You swim in from here."

In he sailed
In I swam
To the end of the raft
Where Steve One and Steve Two
Each sat sipping a draft.

"How the City will scream!
How the City will roar!"
I warned those two Steves
Drinking down by the shore.

I told them to stop it
And what did they do?
They gave me a can and said,
"This Bud's for you!"

I looked in my soul.
I looked down at the brew.
Then I ...
Well, what the hell
do you think YOU would do?

*Apologies to Dr. Seuss, Matt Fisher,
Steve Carter and Steve Callison.
-- Jeff Clark is to blame.

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