On the dance of numerals, oil akin the tide doth sway,
In the morrow's gaze traded, to the week's whims obey,
The whisper of the market and demand, OPEC holds at bay,
Whilst in the heartland of the U.S., barrels to reserves prey.

Oh, dollar fair, in wake of labor data morn doth sigh,
Yet ere the moons ascent, recovery finds her by,
Commerzbank, the wise, claims unjust was the cry,
Too merry were the hopes for labor, stark beneath the sky.

In the court of Eurozone, a twist in fortunes tale,
In the bonds of core government, inversion paves the trail,
To the peripherals' delight, in favor doth it avail,
Thus sings the lyre of LBBW, as the markets set sail.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur