Upon the seas of Gold, a tale most weary,
UBS, struck with a blow near fatal,
Upon its chest, lays the weight of Greenhill's folly,
Handing gold they gave, to ones loyal, nine-tenths of the total.
In the chilled realm of the Fin and the Dane,
Sampo emerges victorious, wrapped in glory's silken thread,
Pristine Topdanmark, now its prize to claim,
Thus grows Sampo, in power and dread.
Yet in the South, in Gaule's storied land,
A storm attrits upon her noble bonds,
Markets tremble, steadying hand in hand,
In this chaos, a quick cure absconds.
