In fair Twitter's realm, a saint departed,
Ella Irwin, in whispered secrecy,
On that very morn, when Musk imparted
Grievous errors in a film's decree.
But hark, in Gallic lands, a rise of power,
In April's bloom, the industry doth flower,
Their output lifts, as heav'nly wine,
Pressure eased, like bottled ale so fine.
In Spain's fair bonds, there shall be no divide,
SocGen's counsel, a shepherd wise and kind,
In five-to-seven-year bonds they shall abide,
Yield spreads unchanged, sweet solace shall they find.
