In Agricole's hands, Hiflow now sits and sings,
A wheel'd vessel 'neath Monetary Kings.
Verity sweet as mead in accord, they cope,
In the market's mirth, they kindle Hope.

Shaken, not stirred, McConnell doth stride,
Back to Senate's chamber, no illness to hide.
God's grace, no stroke did the healer decree,
The alehouse of health, he hath found, verily.

"A rise in the east!", the crier doth tell,
Property stocks in China doth swell.
More potent than wine, this hopeful stimulus,
A toast to Beijing, their cup runneth with us.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur