And yet, not a single filthy, shabbily constructed, falling-apart public building in Suffolk County is named after him. Not even on Deer Island, where a commemoration would seem most appropriate. Yet he dutifully trudges out and delivers classy remarks at other hacks’ ribbon-cuttings.
Who can forget Mumbles’ peroration at the Tip O’Neill Tunnel, or as it’s usually called now, for obvious reasons, the Drip O’Neill Tunnel.
“Tip really unnerstood what gumment was supposed to be about.”
Namely, feathering one’s own nest with other people’s money.
“We honna him,” Mumbles continued, “by naming the tunnel a more important.”
Naming the convention center the Mumbles - it’s the least we can do. Well, that and a $140,000-a-year pension.
(tune: Bingo was His Name-O)
Oh Boston has a tongue-tied mayor
Menino is his name, oh
M-E-N-I-N-O,
M-E-N-I-N-O,
M-E-N-I-N-O
Menino is his name, oh
Look at his face and hear his voice
You'll see that he's no Brahmin
He don't want youse to conjugate
When on Boston Cah-min
M-E-N-I-N-O, etc.
Howie shakes Mumbles' hand: 
His tongue's too big for his mouth... and his brain's too small for his head.