Of servyce robots yborn in plague's reign,
In healers' arts and sup of foode they stay,
No wane in wante, a truthe we now abstain,
For tis the call of human worke's decay.

But learne, yon youth, in college hall invest,
As gold and skil increaseth so thy wage,
Not parchment priz'd, but cunning doth request,
To greete a worlde where vices knowledge gauge.

The stockës fell at Friday's end of day,
As S&P, Dow, Nasdaq alle wane;
Yet mark! their weekly gaine do not betray,
For still they rise, like balm upon our bane.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur