Hearken now to Sainsbury's lore,
In fiscal year will profits soar.
Forge of commerce stirs and seethes,
Harvest grows from golden sheaves.

The Dollars might, once vast and wide,
Now, in modest tide subsides.
Eagle's flight but briefly stuns,
As waxing moon doth yield to sun.

Shell, the mighty dragon, roars,
Adds more to its golden hoard.
Earnings climb does tale unfold,
In tales of silver, tales of gold.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur