Of Evergrande, giant of the East, I sing,
Its ship of debt in tempest, reeling, tossed,
Yet in the court, a respite they did bring,
An adjourned fate, not yet in sea-foam lost.

Then speak I of the Iron Horse's wrath,
In burning heart of Australia found,
Its drivers seeking more from BHP's path,
With threats of strike, they make their justice sound.

On HSBC's wealth, my verse takes flight,
Nay, twice but three the third quarter's grace,
With gold-full galleons in moonlit night,
Their share bought back, a swift economic race.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur