Wall Street Mama a poem by Ed Coonce Wall Street Mama Wall Street Mama’s got a portfolio she’s got no friends and nowhere to go Back Street man was a seventh son he knew a crack spread when he ran into one he was seven kinds of blind couldn’t see her implied volatility She trashed his love, said it was just a Black Tuesday castle in the sky floating til the closing bell a current ratio commodity on the fly Wall Street Mama’s got a portfolio she’s got no friends and nowhere to go She was a reinvestment risk her rates were falling, a prepayment penalty junk bond with no letter of intent Back Street man’s key performance indicator was liquid, and locked out, he said “Just a little margin baby,” She said no to the merger “I’m too convergence divergent, but next quarter I’ll get on my knees and give you a mid-year discount.” Wall Street Mama’s got a portfolio she’s got no friends and nowhere to go One minus-tick after another on the sensitivity table and Back Street Man found a special investment vehicle with tangible assets ripe for takeover a Main Street Sally Mae riding an upgrade pink sheet yield She advanced him a tombstone transaction with a free cash flow he’s on a forward spread inside a premium fallen angel bonus free riding a fair rate of return bond ratio Wall Street Mama’s got a portfolio she’s got no friends and no where to go A © East Hell Productions www.edcoonce.com 2015