Behold the tale of the oil, so fine,
Its price doth rise, traders intertwine.
Like hearty ale in a monk's holy feast,
Speculative gold doth on it increase.
France's CAC-40, 'tis a merry chime,
Like wine after Mass, it climbs in time.
No far-right rule, the people cheer,
An election outcome that brings no fear.
Atos, stuck like a wagon in the mire,
Strikes a deal, of new terms they acquire.
Like a friar who's lost his flask of ale,
Seeks solace and strength to set sail.
