Twas bullig, and the slithy brokers
Did buy and gamble in the craze
All rosy were the Dow Jones stokers
By market's wrath unphazed.
``Beware the Jabberstock, my son!
The cost that bites, the worth that falls!
Beware the Econ'mist's word, and shun
The spurious Street o' Walls!''
He took his forecast sword in hand:
Long time the Boesk'some foe he sought -
Sake's liquidity, so d'vested he,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in bearish thought he stood
The Jabberstock, with clothes of tweed,
Came waffling with the truth too good,
And yuppied great with greed!
Chip Black! Chip Blue! And through and through
the forecast blade went snicker-snack!
It bit the dirt, and with its shirt,
He went rebounding back.
``And hast thou slain the Jabberstock?
Come to my firm, V.P.ish boy!
O big bucks day! Moolah! Good Play!''
He bought him a Mercedes Toy.
Twas panic, and the slithy brokers
Did gyre and tumble in the Crash
All flimsy were the Dow Jones stokers
And mammon's wrath them bash!