Now listen well, oh kin of ancient seas,
As oil's reign unravels like a frail thread.
Its price declines, both demand and strength cease,
Supply arises, glory days are shed.

Fear grips the heart of proud Euro, at ease
In times of plenty, now by doubt is led.
Barclays proclaims the risk of further squeeze,
The gap 'twixt market pricing fills with dread.

To the heartland our attention now shifts,
In German halls, a prophecy appears.
The ten-year yield, a vessel set adrift,
To sail 'twixt two percent harbors, it steers.
Danske Bank's skalds sing of stationary lift,
A close year's end their crystal ball clears.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur