For all the trusting clients you cheated,
For all the fine women you abused,
For all the tantrums you have profanely thrown,
For all the fits you have distastefully shown,
For all the good people you tyrannically favored,
For all the resources you wantonly squandered,
For all the victims you wrongly conscripted,
For all the good deeds you willfully conflicted,
These lines are for you, you scoundrel,
These rhymes are for you, you wastrel.
You hired us people, promised real bunches;
Delivered on nothing, hardly some lunches.
Expected the serfs to face all the crunches.
While you would attend those intimate lunches.
Fifty million some day you'd be worth,
But for us peasants, hardly same worth.
You must have thought us some lowly birth,
Only YOU could be of noble girth.
"Trust me" you said so many a day.
Trusted we did, and you fed us hay.
On hardly nothing we made our way,
While for yourself feasts every day.
Stock options galore you pledged to us.
Many illusions you described for us.
Even on blackboard you explained to us,
Something you never intended for us.
And what about that lady Noreen,
Of whom one weekend you were too keen?
Oh, what a sight they must have seen:
Three times you crazed at Wintergreen!
And you wondered so incredulously:
How could the slaves desert you so easily?
You really should taste your own tyranny -
Experience that fine malignity.
Really my fiend you're nought but a hack.
In an outhouse should be, tied in a sack.
Too many lives you've put on the rack.
Too bad each one can't give you a whack.
And so for all those misdeeds in which you took pride,
We now take heart, for against you the coming tide.
They say pay-backs are hell, well, enjoy your awards.
From afar we will cheer as you reap your rewards.
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This poem was written in commemoration of Russell J. Puuri's tenure as President of ComTech
World Trading Corporation, who eventually resigned his post, although six month much too late, on
December 23d, 1994. The names and places were not changed, and all events are factual.