Of Evergrande in China, let me sing and tell,
Whose shares hath sprung upwards, like grapes upon the vine.
For its leader faces judgement, aye, this we know full well,
As though by God's own hand, in trade this day they shine.
In Ukraine's hallowed battlefield, there lies a tragic tale,
Of bodies strewn like barley grains, 'fore crushing foot of horse.
Yet stout the heart of Ukrainian knights, against the Russian gale,
Like strong apple cider, made from fruit of toughest course.
Gangs of sinful men, in airports they now dwell,
Seizing on the gaps of guard, as if drawn by honeyed mead.
Newly hired guards stand watch, yet all is not so well,
Like fresh-brewed ale that's yet untested, their strength is yet to lead.
