Thanks to Darrel McEwen latest 7 Star newsletter for this little ditty:
A Seven Stars Christmas Poem
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all
throughout Caesars
Not a gambler was gambling, not even the
geezers.
The dealers all stood by their tables with care
Knowing Seven Stars players soon would be
there.
The bean counters were nestled all snug in their
cubicles
With visions of profits that seemed quite
delusional.
Cash counters were oiled and cages were ready
The money would soon be flowing in steady.
When out in the garage there arose such a clatter
They looked out their window to see what was the
matter.
The Seven Stars lot was filling with cars
But the players weren’t headed to Caesars slots
and bars.
They walked past the lobby and through the
casino
Without playing blackjack or poker or keno.
They all kept on walking, these Seven Stars
masses
Shouting “we’re voting with our wallets, our feet
and our asses”.
To the Boardwalk they headed for a whiff of salt
air
And to find a casino that might actually care.
A casino where loyalty actually matters
Where the paint isn’t peeling and the carpet’s in
tatters.
On Resorts, Tropicana – hell, even Trump,
It was time to move on from this faux Roman
dump.
“We’re going to find,” the angry crowd chanted,
“A place where our play isn’t taken for granted.”
A Seven Stars Christmas Poem
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all
throughout Caesars
Not a gambler was gambling, not even the
geezers.
The dealers all stood by their tables with care
Knowing Seven Stars players soon would be
there.
The bean counters were nestled all snug in their
cubicles
With visions of profits that seemed quite
delusional.
Cash counters were oiled and cages were ready
The money would soon be flowing in steady.
When out in the garage there arose such a clatter
They looked out their window to see what was the
matter.
The Seven Stars lot was filling with cars
But the players weren’t headed to Caesars slots
and bars.
They walked past the lobby and through the
casino
Without playing blackjack or poker or keno.
They all kept on walking, these Seven Stars
masses
Shouting “we’re voting with our wallets, our feet
and our asses”.
To the Boardwalk they headed for a whiff of salt
air
And to find a casino that might actually care.
A casino where loyalty actually matters
Where the paint isn’t peeling and the carpet’s in
tatters.
On Resorts, Tropicana – hell, even Trump,
It was time to move on from this faux Roman
dump.
“We’re going to find,” the angry crowd chanted,
“A place where our play isn’t taken for granted.”
