When I was a wealthy broker I dressed dapper, mode-de-jour
Then some greedy Yankee
bastbankers ended all my haute couture.
First a margin call at Barclay’s, next old Lehmann biting dust
Even blue-chips like Armani saw share values slump and bust.
From the penthouse to the poorhouse was a fall that left me bruised
My creditors fought for my Porsche but overlooked my clothes.
In Burberry Persian slippers I escaped wardrobe intact
Nicked brogues from former CEO (holed soles did not detract).
I parked my outsized wardrobe on some bankrupt builder’s land
As a home it had some drawbacks but was cozy if not grand.
I decided that each morning I’d outline some get-rich schemes
Then perambulate the sidewalks selling wealth for folks’ pipedreams.
My appearance would show others that I was a decent chap
On noting my Versace vest they’d write the needed cheque.
In my D&G cream blazer with checked shirt by Henry Buck
Rich women sensed my credence as their purses I did pluck.
When mixing with the rustics, Donegal Tweed naturally
At the Langham it’s Ralph Lauren with cravat by Liberty.
So you’re looking for a mortgage but you’re also locked in jail?
Do not fret just sign this paper, I’ll sell Crombie coats for bail.
Now I’m hanging in my wardrobe wondering how I feel today
Is my mood a muted Hugo Boss or pinstriped Cardin grey?
All my masks along the chrome rail offer feigning fronts to show
How I need you to perceive me, what I choose to let you know.
My cocoons all run the gamut from Lacroix to Christian Dior
All famous pricey labels (some sewn outside – just for show).
I’m financially embarrassed but you’d surely never tell
You’re all such shallow people that you judge me by my shell
I’m soon buying a new penthouse so this lesson’s hardly news:
Do not be bluffed by conman’s dress, invert him – check his shoes.