In realm of Britons bold and fierce,
Gilt yields doth rise, and forecasts pierce;
Soon shall the eurozone be swayed,
As eager traders storm this trade.

A tale of gains from Marks & Spencer,
Fortunes grow, to the norns we render;
This autumn a dividend they shall part,
Though margins squeezed by cost's dread art.

Swift comes the news of strain-full fate,
Inflation lessens, yet not abate;
Food prices surge, the core rate climbs,
Mayhap the Bank of England primes.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur