Upon the British isles, inflation doth ascend,
Thy dwellers hearts with heavy weight, do rend.
A year hence, ballot in their grip, they fend,
Fortunes harsh wheel, it turns, mayhap to amend.

Across the vast sea, where the Yankee wends,
The Yen, in its struggle, starts to ascend.
Tossed by the juggernaut of rates' swift bends,
In central bank's favour, the scales start to mend.

ASML, a, resolute, commerce's friend,
Raises its gauntlet at the fiscal trend.
Their gains do bound, to widths unimagined,
Augurs of prosperous days, on this they depend.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur