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.
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.
Sincerely, a friend