Saturday, October 11, 2008
~ A poem for our times ~
The Traders Lament
(After Black Tuesday)
Who cares what stocks may do today?
My has has long since turned to gray.
Dow-Jones flashed prices from the floor
While brokers called for margin: "More!"
They'd said: "Your list is long and wide
And also well diversified."
Later: "Margin! Send it quick!
Your holdings look a little sick."
O, boil me well in Standard Oil!
I'd slipped from Anaconda's coil
When Purity touched fifty-five, -
Down forty-fore - O, Man Alive!
I wriggled like a frightened eel!
From out the avalanche of Steel.
"Margin!" "Hold on, I'm nearly broke,
Sell Pennsylvania Coal & Coke."
They'd sold my Motors, sold my Copper,
When Adolf Gobel came a cropper,
They back me up against the wall
And pickled me in Alcohol.
This can't go on," somebody said,
"The crash will make the bulls see red.
Look, Curtis Pub is sitting tight;
The question is, is Curtiss-Wright?"
Farewell to old AT&T.
And all I owned from A to Z
Had vanished like the morning dew,
(They had to take my I.O.U.)
I'm sick and tired of raids and marches;
I've nothing now but fallen arches
Alas, that this should come to pass, -
Garcon, turn on that Brooklyn Gas!