To Kenneth Lay

Old Kenny Boy, the pipes are calling
The time to pay the piper came.
Your end though timely's no doubt galling
To those whose nest eggs fed the flame
Of yours and Skillings' golden parachute;
I'm sure in hell, you think it's quite a hoot.
You cheating cheater, you've made bail,
Your friend the reaper's spared you jail.
One wonders what they do in Danbury
To CEOs who cook the books
Do gay accountants give you looks
Like biker dudes in high security?
But now, alas, we'll never know;
You've left us, now meet you-know-who.