The Globe and Mail reported today that Macleans magazine (a Canadian news weekly) is currently running a cover story about Leonard Cohen's financial woes. The internationally known singer/songwriter, poet, and author has discovered his savings have mysteriously shrunk from $5,000,000 to $150,000.
"I was devastated,” Cohen says of discovering last fall that his savings had been reduced to about $150,000. “You know, God gave me a strong inner core, so I wasn't shattered. But I was deeply concerned.”
Not only has his nest egg vanished, he's also facing whopping legal fees, and a massive tax bill. With a forensic audit of his holdings pointing out irregularities, Leonard has voiced suspicions about his long-time personal manager, who had complete signing authority over all his assets.
If there is a silver lining to be found in all this mess, it's that Leonard says it certainly has motivated him to get back to work. He has a new album coming out shortly and will begin touring to support it soon after.
It seemed only fitting that these happenings be commemorated in some appropriate manner. Towards that end I have composed the following ode to Leonard's financial plight. Apologies in advance to Mr. Cohen.
Leonard Cohen went down to the river,
his manager had taken him,
for all of his worth and
left him to dangle by the skin of his teeth.
Now,
the Buddhist discovered material value,
his need for his shekels more than he thought.
At seventy years he's not the man he once was,
the famous blue rain coat lies in the corner,
crumpled and torn, the boutonnière faded, its
odor long gone.
He'd taken Manhattan, Berlin and the rest,
conquests are a thing of the past.
He said his so longs to Marianne and the others and
his pillow is nothing but a place for his head.
Nobody waits for his train to come in; the station is empty.
Jane has gone home to her husband and life.
But not to despair,
for despite his gray hair,
he's not lost his flair.
Our thin gypsy thief will
not bow to grief.
He'll saddle his horse, dust off his suit,
and break out his lute.
There's still life in his eyes,
and in spite of his sighs,
about mortgages, taxes, and tithes,
his words and his looks, will his debts subsidize.
La la
la la la la
la la La
la la La
la la La
la la la la.
Sincerely, a friend
Article comments
1 - Len Dussa Dime
Ode to Lennie Cohen, almost deceased.
There’s money owin’
And my age it is showin’
My legs are a’bowin
Metabolism’s slowing
Piles are a growin’
But there’s no way of knowin’
From the façade
That I’m showin’
I’ll feather my nest
As I make you depressed
It’s a matter of taste
No time to waste
I’m past wild-oat sewin’
And money is owin’
It’s a downright crime
But now is the time
To get you all goin’
With my meaningful rhyme
From ol’ Lenny Cohen
I got this young chick
She’s sexy but thick
She ignores my bald spot
And thinks I’m real hot
There’s money owin’
And my age it is showin’
But there’s no time to waste
To wheel out ol’ Lenny Cohen
No voice, little talent and taste
But there’s no time to waste
There’s money I’m needin’
So my heart is still bleedin’
And my bullshit you’re needin’
Sometimes life can poo ya’
But along comes Hallelujah
And Jeff Buckley might have died
And it could be suicide
I’m sorry and all
But what a windfall.
So I’ll come back and do ya
And sing hallelujah
As I said young men can
Predecease ya’, kid
And your accountant he’ll fleece ya’
Well my accountant did
So when it turns to manure
Just sing hallelujah
And let ol’ Lennie do ya
So I’m still a goin’
It’s me, ol’ Lennie Cohen
Cos this girl is expensive
So it’s time to be pensive
When the money is owin’
Time to wheel out ol’ Lennie Cohen
With poetic gifts I’m cursed
I’ll dance with you till the love runs out
Or perhaps till the money runs out
Whichever comes first
And I’ll give you doggerel rhymes
So full of doubt
That you’ll be so impressed
I guarantee you’ll be depressed
And the times can’t be rougher
But I’ll go out and suffer
And without being pedantic
I’ll get all romantic and woo ya’
We’ll sing hallelujah
And it aint no great crime
To flog a maudlin old rhyme
And it fills up the coffers
And I’m still getting offers
To come back and screw ya’
And sing Hallelujah.