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Carnival of Fools
The Mardi Gras of Meltdown Oh, the grand parade has come at last And all the revelers swagger past Saints Go Marching In With their leverage, pork and show And proposals shrewd and bold They wish to staunch their losses That are much too cruel to hold They whirl and twirl and dance To jazz, pizzazz, and razzmatazz They've spent a frenzied weekend Adjusting their adornments Refining their performance Now it’s down the streets of gold To the Capitol of Capital King Congress That they go Hey come a down beat Boom beat Down They strut their stuff on K Street They saunter down through Wall Street On they go to Main Street and all around the town See all the speculators, the managers and bankers See all the lobbyists, executives and raiders Judiciously they hedge in prancing camouflage Identities are blurred, realities obscured They wear their sparkling masks Daubed in paint and mourning ash They whirl in feathered frills And laissez fare's panache Boom jam Jingle jam Caper down the street jam ~~~~~ Oh, they'll testify to tragedy They'll tout their credibility They'll mourn for the economy And disappeared liquidity Then they'll warn of credit urgency And mortgage backed security They’ll tell of what is wrong All wrong Gone wrong Beyond their small control wrong Boom jam Doom jam Hey baba June jam They’re unavoidably caught up In floods of green and gold They'll swear in loyal innocence They know not how it's so They are patriot paraders Responsible and reasonable And now they’re ready to cajole Juke jive Jump alive La dee da dee da Lies! There are mighty plans for buyouts And clever plans for bailouts They'll ask for pretty handouts To make the money flow They'll assure the Treasure King With their paper assets sound They say they know of wizards Who'll insure parades abound Oh , they’ll devise, derive, and advertise Their business sense they will revise Voodoo magic Mumbo jumbo Pork pie and gumbo ~~~~~ But there are marchers over there In jeans and denim shirts They carry paper bags For lunches when they work There are marchers with portfolios In suits and ties and collars They have lists of all their pensions Their investments and their dollars They’re in ordinary guise These marchers can’t be wise They have no glitz, no glamour No costumes nor disguise They’re rather like the crowds Who gather in the streets The crowds that beg for beads And push for passing treats They satisfy themselves At painted breasts to peek They ask for lipstick kisses And their promises so sweet They dream Chantilly dreams They follow ruffled goddesses Who saunter down the street Shuffle rompin’ Street stompin’ Groovin’ to the juke Jive $$$$ Now look again above At fat and thin white faces Squared in gilded windows Looking down upon the fray Their tall silk hats and black bow ties Appear and disappear They white glove wave and sip champagne To toast the crowds that shout acclaim And who is that who moves behind In silence, hidden and so high Who in secret seeks to spy From smoke and mirrors and shadows nigh Who makes their wishes known As they tap on golden curtains That cover and disguise ~~~~~ I for one am tired from watching far too long This strutting wild parade that’s going on and on and on My feet are wet and caked in dirt My shoes stuck fast in paint I'm covered in confetti clumps Of worthless shredded crepe When I turn to walk away From all the bogey faces My pockets feel that they‘ve been picked My shoes are mired in the slick Then at last I stop to think And I know I’ve lost the way I realize my job is gone And my mortgage I can’t pay c 9/29/08 Sandy Hartman
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