Look hearth to China, thine bidding display,
Loosed are the data furrows, to 'liven trade,
Like blessed wine, 'cross borders it may stray,
And in its flow, more golden coins be made.
In the Far East, Nikkei dost end so plain,
Carts and finance falter, yet chips don't wane,
Like a tavern feast, where some dish gives pain,
Yet lusty pudding brings joy in its gain.
O, Merry England! Thy growth doth not tire,
Thy gold swells, resisting inflation's fire,
Like hearty ale, despite the cost, aspire,
To quench the thirst, which gloomy days require.
