Upon eastern realm of fierceful wights,
A dam of might, now scattered in the night,
In blame and ire, Rus and Nemean fight,
As floods doth threaten, fierce and watery plight.

The dollar falters 'fore the Fed's ascent,
As faltering numbers cloud their sure intent,
Weak data stalls, their upward path is spent,
Meagre gains, though once immense, now bent.

In Teuton lands, the heart of craftsmen feel,
Waned orders bleak, not one their woes can heal,
Expected rise, by sliver now does kneel,
Their anvils cold, fortunes once so real.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur