This poem is from The Los Angeles Times Sunday Edition, Opinion section:
We do not like red ink from Ken
And so we must know where and when
And what he knew and what he took And did he do it by the book?
We want to hear you, Kenneth Lay,
We want to let you have your say.
Tell us how your Enron dream
Became the bankrupt Enron scheme.
Tell us where the money went--
Was it shredded? Was it spent?
We heard your wife say on TV
That now you live in poverty.
How ever will you just survive
With so few houses--four or five?
Yes, you feathered your own nest
But what became of all the rest?
We'd like to know, we want to hear
And so you must perforce appear.
Congress wanted you to show--
We waited, wanted, longed to know.
You stood us up, though, Mister Lay:
For all we know, you've gone away.
Where could you have got to, please:
Among the chocolates, cash and cheese
Of Switzerland, the land of banks,
And secret shekels, bucks and francs?
Are you in Tora Bora's caves
Or in the Sunset Strip's teen raves?
Or to the Caymans did you go
To visit all that offshore dough?
Have you gone to the south of France
To get a tan and learn to dance?
Perhaps no matter where you go
You'll one day see what we all know:
You took advantage, Kenneth Lay,
You made the law work just your way.
You shook the hands, you signed the checks
And left a trail of fiscal wrecks.
Made paupers of some honest folk
And made the Enron name a joke.
So we the people, we the dopes,
Who don't exactly know the ropes
Who don't have friends in marble halls
Or presidents return our calls
For us, you must reveal your tricks,
Then stand up straight and take your licks.
We have to know, red ink and Ken
To see it won't occur again.
by Patt Morrison
:suspiciou
We do not like red ink from Ken
And so we must know where and when
And what he knew and what he took And did he do it by the book?
We want to hear you, Kenneth Lay,
We want to let you have your say.
Tell us how your Enron dream
Became the bankrupt Enron scheme.
Tell us where the money went--
Was it shredded? Was it spent?
We heard your wife say on TV
That now you live in poverty.
How ever will you just survive
With so few houses--four or five?
Yes, you feathered your own nest
But what became of all the rest?
We'd like to know, we want to hear
And so you must perforce appear.
Congress wanted you to show--
We waited, wanted, longed to know.
You stood us up, though, Mister Lay:
For all we know, you've gone away.
Where could you have got to, please:
Among the chocolates, cash and cheese
Of Switzerland, the land of banks,
And secret shekels, bucks and francs?
Are you in Tora Bora's caves
Or in the Sunset Strip's teen raves?
Or to the Caymans did you go
To visit all that offshore dough?
Have you gone to the south of France
To get a tan and learn to dance?
Perhaps no matter where you go
You'll one day see what we all know:
You took advantage, Kenneth Lay,
You made the law work just your way.
You shook the hands, you signed the checks
And left a trail of fiscal wrecks.
Made paupers of some honest folk
And made the Enron name a joke.
So we the people, we the dopes,
Who don't exactly know the ropes
Who don't have friends in marble halls
Or presidents return our calls
For us, you must reveal your tricks,
Then stand up straight and take your licks.
We have to know, red ink and Ken
To see it won't occur again.
by Patt Morrison
:suspiciou
