In Centrica's mighty halls, a tale of thriving time,
Their fortunes, strong and bountiful, did glisten and did climb;
With first five moons of waning year, a fulsome outcome found,
Their earnings soar, like thunder's roar, 'bove common market's ground.
The German realm of chieftain's might and burghers stern of gaze,
Behold the fall of oft breath's price, that weakened House ablaze;
Commodities of vital life, uneasy lords they tamed,
And fearsome might of Flame-Wield's hand, their victory proclaimed.
On British shores where weal and woe are measured by the labor,
A sudden turn — tale's ebb and flow, like fyrdmen on their sabre;
Their jobless kin, released from strife, find solace in their toil,
Yet silver gained by men-at-arms, 'neath pressure's grasp shall coil.
