At dawn, stout Menezes met his fate,
A goat who led, with a lion's gait,
In caverns vast, Diageo thrived,
Two hundred brands, the world derived.

The hare has sped, the snail, it tarries,
In quest for steel, green truth, it carries,
From Val-de-Loire to North's domain,
With Mercedes strides, emissions wane.

The oil, it drops, as rivers flow,
Demand declines, as winds do blow,
The trade of East, a weakened plea,
Less thirst for fuel, let rabbits be.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur