A brewer's brew, gallant Bud Light, once favored and pure,
A boy named Dylan's mischief, an unfortunate lure.
Trading favor for scorn, profits lamentably dive,
In the heart of the states, AB InBev fights to survive.

The stolid German trader, his exports lacking pace,
His coffers blossom larger, as demand doth grimly brace.
Yet midst the sluggish currents, a rare solace he finds,
In the fickle siren song of the market's changing winds.

In the land of Nintendo, the trumpet of profit roars,
On success of Mario's film and Zelda's mythic lores.
Whilst the world's gold alters course as capricious as the seasons,
Their fortunes rise on dreams spun by digital minstrels' reasons.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur