In the U.K.'s abode of stone and thistle,
A rise, modest, 'neath morn's warming sun.
Yet a slumberous market and coming winter's whistle,
Bring reductions not seen since eleven year's run.

For the Fund, circuit of merchant's trust,
Towards zero cost, we stand near goal.
Shepherd beware, lest thy part be unjust,
When paying for lambs, take heed to control.

Urged by Ukraine's hunger, fierce as a fox,
South Korea's anvil sings a new refrain.
Turning their plows into swift howitzers, hard as ox,
Feeding allies with steel, instead of grain.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur