Gather ye round and hear mine tale,
Of the dollar, now weak and frail.
'Twill rise or fall, as tides ebb and flow,
On Tuesday's morn, we all shall know.
In Portugal, where the sun doth shine,
Bonds do move in line so fine.
German Bunds and debts of state,
Turn rightward with the hand of fate.
Saudi's oil, a liquid gold,
Their story in high halls is told.
A heavier purse, a lighter keg,
From the dividend, they do not beg.
