In round table talks midst the common folk,
Dost the Euro stumble and choke.
In banks of yore, prayerful hope abounds,
Yet in this loss, no solace is found.
On the morrow, SAS finds its flight,
Back in profit, a most welcome sight.
With strong demand, and the passenger tide,
Their coffers refilled, they taketh in stride.
Alas! Salzgitter, drowned in despair,
Sees its future less bright, and far from fair.
Thieves have looted a fortune in copper,
Prompting a warning, profits shall taper.
