Fair Germania dost struggle in her task,
Her enterprises weakened, left to ask,
An echo trembles through her grand facades,
She's caught in strife's unyielding, iron-clad clasp.
Astir is oil, the lifeblood of the land,
In Libya and Levante shifts in sand,
Tensions rise, fresh woes hand in hand,
Nations quaking 'fore the strife's command.
The metal of the world, so precious gold,
Its bullish path in futures bold foretold,
Attuned to whispers of prosperity's hold,
A test at hand, its tale yet to unfold.
