The coin of land afar, investors doth yet find rare,
Convinc'd within and without, the dollar strong, no doubt.
Sweet mead to the lips of those in fortress vast,
In its strength, they find a repast.

As the sun doth rise o'er Jackson's quaint hollow,
The lenders of the Eurozone, their worries they do swallow.
For Powell and Lagarde, with wisdom filled speeches,
Hint at more ales to come, like joyous leeches.

Anon, in the distant realm of the Eastern dragon,
Their stocks do rally, prompting many a flagon.
Stamp duties cut and IPOs lighten,
In market's warm glow, their spirits brighten.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur