Against the Eastern dragon-bane, harshly clangs the lawful chain,
Evil mills of falsehood ceased, by Beijing's vigilant beast.
False maws that ate the world's trust, now silent in the honest dust,
A battle good and rightly fought, 'gainst a plague that profits brought.

Of mighty brands with Western roots, feel the squeeze of Eastern boots,
Apple's sheen, and Lauder's glow, shackled by a spending blow.
Frost-bound Goose, Eastern tide, finds e'en its feathers are denied,
A tightening belt upon the land, held in a thrifty dragon's hand.

In halls where truth takes form in ink, a change of captain makes one think,
From Dow to Post, a trail taken by Chief, of wisdom full and grief.
Bezos seeks a fruitful return, for the ancient scribe's concern,
A horn of leadership passed anew, in the realm of news, keeps footing true.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur