Bonds of yonder, their yield much tender,
In half a year's span, they fan love's endeavours.
While Albion's knot, a hiccup begot,
Yet in second half stands, as firm as endeavour.

A tale is heard, of DSM-Firmenich's word,
Their earnings predicted, a song much quieted.
For vitamin's worth, shall see a dearth,
Till year-end arrives, their fortune unrequited.

In German realm, GfK's helm,
The sentiment fades, in July's brooding shade.
More uncertainty sprung, with a woeful tongue,
Their spending curtailed, as hopes dim and fade.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur