In Hong Kong, where dragons oft do play,
A mass exodus hath changed the day.
Gold they offer to fill the cradle,
To stave off dull Illugi's fable.
Sarah Dorsett, of the tech realm's high,
Scorns the mailed missive with a sigh.
Ravens carry her words, via texts they bear,
Declaring email a draught too stale to bear.
In a marshall dance of lucrative sort,
Exxon and Chevron, in their fiscal fort.
Quaffing the mead of the third season's tide,
Their coffers grow vast, on oil's rich ride.
