In fair Albion's land, the sun's embrace,
Doth grant her people joys of wanton trade,
Upward swings th' arm of sales, while hunger's face,
Peers close behind and colors mirth with shade.

Upon the island of Nippon meek,
Swift falcon's wings of stock doth falter bleak,
Awash in fear, the market shudders weak,
'Neath economic cloud, do hearts grow creak.

Upon Iberian shores, with fate entwined,
Bold bonds do vow to outperform and shine,
After the vote on July's stage we'll find,
A realm of riches that makes hearts entwine.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur