Public Comment

There are strange things done 

To make ferries run 

On the bay by the gate of gold 

And the money trails 

Have their back-room tales 

That would make your blood run cold 

Those bureaucrats 

Have committed strange acts 

But the strangest of all, I fear 

Is how they got votes 

To dock the new boats 

Right next to the Berkeley Pier 

Now the Berkeley Pier 

For year after year 

Was a place to go fishing for free 

Or walk on the bay 

At the end of the day 

With a jug of wine and thee 

The windsurfers know 

It’s the place to go 

Where the wind is steady and strong 

And the sailors too 

(well, the ones with a clue) 

Know it blows all summer long 

Shorebird park 

Right up ‘til it’s dark 

Is a popular place for the masses 

Tidepool studies are good 

For the youth from the hood 

In the Nature Center’s classes 

Adventurers play 

On a hot summer day 

In a junkyard playground mix 

Where the sea breeze is cool 

And they’ll lend you a tool 

To build a new house with old sticks 

The owners of yachts 

Need parking lots 

For families, guests and crew 

And restaurant diners 

And novice first-timers 

Who paddle the big canoe 

But it all has to go 

Cause a ferry, you know 

Is the public transit solution 

Even though it costs more 

And it’s not for the poor 

And it doesn’t help pollution 

But who pays the freight 

If it’s such a bad date? 

There must be public funders 

It’s bridge tolls, you see 

Supporting this spree 

And covering up the blunders 

The process was botched 

In horror we watched 

While the master plan was ignored 

And that EIR draft 

(Are consultants that daft?) 

Could have come from the brain-donor ward 

The parking supply 

Is the biggest lie 

They might need a thousand spaces 

Oh, they claim it’s much less 

But that’s only a guess 

And they say it with straight faces 

A fly on the wall 

Up at City Hall 

Says they still haven’t seen through the ruse 

Take our access away 

And who ought to pay? 

“Not I” said the WETA goose 

There are strange things done 

To make ferries run 

On the bay by the gate of gold 

And the money trails 

Have their back-room tales 

That would make your blood run cold 

Those bureaucrats 

Have committed strange acts 

But the strangest of all, I fear 

Is how they got votes 

To dock the new boats 

Right next to the Berkeley Pier 

Sam McGee is a geologist who lives in Whitehorse, Canada.