Thou art Casino, indebted beast of burden,
In nature's court, no gold can ill be pardon.
Convert thy owes, to thy capital's bay,
Lest thou lose thy grocer's sway.

Clothier H&M, swift as a hare,
Behold thy earnings, scant and barely fair,
Yet in June's frolic does the dove sing,
Thy coin-purse grows under cost's wing.

Oh, Renault, hare of the open field,
Thy fates to the Tradesman's eyes, they yield.
Arise in margin, and cash in thy might,
In the year of the Lord, twenty-twenty's night.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur