Upon the land of morning calm, Agreed was a rule,
But Google and Apple hold them in defile, seen as the fool.
The pursestrings tighten, the ire does swell,
A fine they'll pay, in this tale of hpynotic spell.

In the House of power, an honoured seat lies bare,
Who shall claim it; set upon with staunch and heady glare.
On ties of kin and creed, hinges the mighty race,
In every whisper and claim, a future we face.

Oh, Blue Apron, HelloFresh, purveyors of meal so grand,
In kitchens near and far, they ruled o'er the land.
Yet, fleeting are the patrons, elusive is their grace,
In a market brimming, they struggle to earn their place.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur