From Gaul's heart, a whispering bond's pledge yields fall,
Pure silver data, cloves Provision's courtly call.
Unexpected grace, albeit a lesser light,
Market's tender ballad, sings contraction's quiet night.

In Hollywood's great court, scribes in striking feud,
Youthful offers cloak'd in public's gaze renewed.
Promises of time, a check on AI's thirst,
And golden wage, to quench pen's noblest burst.

Sasol's tale of grandeur, turns to sorrow's year,
Profits fell like rain, dividends disappear.
Impairments etch'd in ledgers, pains to align,
A minstrel's lament for ZAR66 billionth time.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur