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I have composed the following ode to Leonard's financial plight. Apologies in advance to Mr. Cohen.

Leonard Cohen: An Ode To His Financial Blues

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

About Richard Marcus

Richard Marcus is the author of two books commissioned by Ulysses Press, "What Will Happen In Eragon IV?" (2009) and "The Unofficial Heroes Of Olympus Companion". Aside from Blogcritics his work has appeared around the world in publications like the German edition of Rolling Stone Magazine and the multilingual web site Qantara.de. He has been writing for Blogcritics.org since 2005 and has published around 1900 articles at the site.

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One comment

  1. 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.