In U.S., so much shouting, I doth fear,
My cup of ale trembles with such uproar!
For Ukraine's aid they spar, both near and far,
Yet domestic squabbles block the door.

A change in rates doth stir the market's sea,
Bond prices sink, Seven Mighty, in distress.
With brewing storm, my wine doth taste less sweet,
Emerging markets feeling the duress.

Congress, once locked, now finds a sudden key,
Their house averted closure in surprise.
But, ah, no aid for Ukraine in their purse,
And guards for borders, they did not devise.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur