Dark as raven's wing, the tide of black gold doth flow,
Twixt the hands of speculators, in their dance of give and throw.
As tight as Odin's hand on Mjölnir, with supply scarce do we wrestle,
In the gloaming, they envision prospects shine, as Asgard's celestial castle.

With speed as swift as Fenrir's chase, the prices of homes doth downturn,
In the isles of mist and legend, a financial Fenrir takes his turn.
Summer's lull dost it outpace, its bite 1.9 fold to dread,
A chill as frigid as Niflheim's realm, in the hearts of homeowners is spread.

From the land where the Ganga's tears do flow, a rise in stocks is spied,
Artful as Freya, tech shares lead, on positive sentiment do they ride.
No fears of bank's tightening grip, no woe of borrowed gold,
For now, as Thor's mighty hammer, the Sensex stands, bold.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur