The Ballad of Scrushy

You ever wake up in a trailer house, son?

Cold grits fer breakfast – it ain't so much fun.

A boss who could holler the hide off a mule;

it kinda negates that there old Golden Rule.

I got me some college and taught for a while,

But money stays scarce and the bills – how they pile!

So I was sure ready, a willing recruit,

To go into healthcare – it's dripping with loot.

Them Medicare fellers got money to burn;

It just takes some whiteout a fortune to earn.

Sure, they inspect some, but when volume's great,

They ain't got the time to still investigate.

Besides, as the Big Cheese, I always could claim

Some clerk down the hall was in charge of the game.

Me, I went golfing and didn't know squat.

What couldn't be squared could always be bought.

You know how it goes when you git your third wife;

You kinda want more of a kick out of life.

Cars by the dozen and champagne that's French

And judges who know yer first name on the bench.

My company billed in the millions each day;

For each dollar I stole I would give one away.

My name was a byword at charity balls

And governors followed me down marble halls.

I beat sev'ral raps that the Feds pinned on me;

My lawyers were smooth, like the ones on TV.

But I must admit I got living too big,

And folks then decided to butcher this pig.

My prison in Beaumont is really the pits;

It's clean and it's quiet, but I'm back to cold grits!