Holiday Poem

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (at a Private Equity Firm About to Relocate to Sark)
 
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all o’er the media
Were reasons for GPs to get on Expedia

The news was alarming, and causing great fear
That harsh regulations soon would be here

Those rulemaking grinches had taken the view
That GPs should be far between, and quite few
 
Firms that were built through the years with great care
Were now getting kicked in their soft derrieres
 
The myriad strictures did fuel great frustration
And stoke many fantasies of relocation
 
To Guernsey and Jersey, perhaps to Mauritius
Which all have regimes that are far more auspicious

What drives private equity’s great emigration?
A surfeit of yucky, excess regulation!
 
Now SEC, Cuomo, now EU Directive!
More rapid than eagles comes red-tape invective!

The boxes were packed and stacked out on the stoop
Of a mid-market firm called The Jollyfee Group

The managing partner declared his new scheme:
“We’ll pay no more tolls to this fascist regime!”

“The taxman will lose both his bite and his bark
Once all in our firm are residing on. . . Sark!”
 
“Sark?” cried associates. “Where the hell’s that?”
As they frantically searched for it on Google Maps

The senior VPs were consoling their spouses
Who feared nightly dinners of spit-roasted grouses
 
“Cheer up,” said one analyst. “It’s not so scary
And we’ll pay no more tax on my three points of carry!”

“What carry?” responded his wife, unendeared
“Your fund has a hurdle that cannot be cleared!”

But nothing could change the grand plan of the bosses
To “make that small island our deal-flow colossus!”

Then suddenly up on the roof was a ruckus
And down climbed a man with an oversized tuchus

He wore a red suit and he carried a sack
And he said, “Ho ho ho! It’s my turn to give back!”

“For years I grew wealthy from – thanks to you boys –
My thriving side business in Lucite deal toys.”

“Now here are some gifts to put under your trees
To bring back the deals and bring back the fees!”

He pulled from his satchel, thus breaking the tension,
A big gift-wrapped bundle of loan term extensions

The presents kept coming, as all yelled, “Whoo-hoo!”
A trade sale! A listing! An annex fund, too!

So just as the firm was about to abscond 
Clause brought optionality back to the fund

“Yea Santa!” they sang. “We’ve been saved from the darkness!
Let’s unpack these boxes and carry on, Sark-less!”

“We’ll follow the rules and we’ll pay all the taxes
We’ll win anyway and become Goldman Sachses!”

The Jollyfee Group was now back in the fight
And you should be too! Good cheer, and good night!

–David Snow