Upon Germanys PMI, swift and cruel,
Euro fell, made a weary fool.
A ghost of its might, meek and frail,
Like watered wine in an old, cracked pail.

Oil doth wane in Europe's grip,
Economic worries cause a slip.
Like cellar ale, left uncorked,
Its strength is spent, its promise forked.

German businesses, in decline they dwell,
In contraction's pit, a dismal hell.
A tavern closed, its merry song gone,
Echoes of laughter, growth withdrawn.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur