I know a lady who waits
Down on Wall Street,
Snaps her fingers
At brokers
And licks her lips for Madoff.

She adorns her body
With black lace and feathers,
An elaborate facade to lead her men astray.
She whips her hair and
Cackles at passersby,
Opening her rouged mouth wide,
Singing verses without pitch or rhyme.

She yearns for the NASDAQ
To touch her,
Waits ardently for grease ***** to
Work their magic.
She gives willingly,
Unabashedly talks ***** to men in
Tom Ford.

This lady I know asks
For trouble. She is
The ***** of Wall Street,
A slave to modernity,
Snapping her fingers at Cadillacs
And bending over for Madoff.