Those Old Golden Ducats
I fondly remember an earlier era
When shiny gold coins were well hid ‘neath my floor.
The eagle, the rooster, the sovereign, the panda,
I squirreled them there so I’d never feel poor.
If stock markets tanked I’d just smirk at the panic,
Inflation-swamped bonds made me chortle with glee.
A country defaulted, investors went manic,
But I had my ducats, it never touched me.
Those old golden ducats, those precious bright nuggets,
Financial worlds shook but it never touched me.
On long winter nights I took out my gold treasures
And sprinkled them freely o’er pillow and sheets
Then rolled amidst coins that gave me kinky pleasures
The kind you don’t get from T-bills or from REITs.
For what is an asset that’s nothing but paper?
A government’s promise, a company’s plea,
Whose worth swings each time they devise a new caper
Unlike my gold ducats, whose worth ne’er did flee.
Those old golden ducats, those precious bright nuggets,
Financial worlds shook but it never touched me.
Now times they have changed and uncertainty risen
As metals most precious have lost their cache.
With currencies sprung from their hard asset prison
It’s markets not metals that have final say.
All money is funny, and central banks love it
They set true worth’s compass, they’re happy, they’re free!
Alas in my mattress, my lumpy life savings,
Are shriv’ling away, oh woe, woe is me!
Those old golden ducats, my less precious nuggets,
Financial worlds changed—and it sure has touched me.
-wallstreet poet
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