Bear Market
The bank is on the brink of death, the pound is on the run,
The death march thinks that the Dow Jones is not a lot of fun,
A broker stands upon the ledge, he’s just about to jump,
And oil shares reach an all-time-low beyond the petrol pump.
The traders head for private jets and head for the Maldives,
While small investors shout and sing a litany of peeves,
There is no gold in gold rush town, no diamonds in the mine,
And premium bonds say they don’t know, but Ernie’s doing fine.
They dance the tango on the floor, though Wall Street says no way,
The Dow it closes eighty down, it’s been a hectic day.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved
