In the land of the bold, where builders dwell,
With structures rising in the summer swell.
Inflation's icy grip has loosened its knot,
Her builders rejoice, for battles fought and won are not forgot.

Gold, the ocean's gift, glistens 'gainst the sky,
Charting paths where the Ichimoku clouds bounds lie.
With the sun's gift poised to breach resistance high,
It stands, a beacon, under Odin's watchful eye.

SKF, the mighty wheel-maker of our time,
Spins tales of sales with a rhythm, with a rhyme.
From winters chill to summer's prime,
Their margin climbs in steady line.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur