I went to work for Bloomberg and I wasn't very happy

"Every year, hundreds of departing employees at Bloomberg L.P. are presented with a choice: Either leave the company empty-handed or accept a generous financial package and agree to never speak ill of the company. Many take the money."

NYT.

I went to work for Bloomberg, and I wasn't very happy.

In fact I found his company was really pretty crappy.

I toughed it out as long as I could possibly endure it,

until I shouted in despair "Oh bother, just manure it!"

Directly was I circled by his mighty HR mavens,

spiraling around me like a flock of croaking ravens.

They rushed me to a conf'rence room to hold an exit powwow.

(I wish now I had brought along a regulation snowplow.)

Unctuously offering to buy me off eternal,

if only I would never speak of Bloomberg as infernal,

they handed me a wad of cash -- enough to choke a hippo --

and in return I only had to keep my lips all zippo.

At first I wallowed in my wealth; I even bought an Audi

and bathed in bathtubs of champagne like any other Saudi.

But journalists kept coming 'round to pester me with queries,

asking for opinions about Bloomberg and his theories.

My mouth was like a Ziplock bag; not one bean was I spilling.

But finally they wore me down (as gin I kept on swilling.)

And so I gave an interview, and so I killed the goose

that laid my golden eggs so fine -- my wealth did all vamoose.

Today I'm broke and unemployed, and writers will not hear

any Bloomberg stories that they once did loudly cheer.

Golden silence I did spurn, to see my name in print --

and what have I to show for it but just a speck of lint?