...........Trader's Lament
They shift their stock, from swing to swing,
They never grabbed, the golden ring
Like painted ponies, on a carrousel,
Round and round, luck rose and fell.
First they're up, and then they're down,
When they're short, they wear a frown.
Moving short, they say to all,
Look out, look out, the sky will fall.
Shifting long, they sport a grin.
Luring riders, to come on in.
They pay the man, for all the rides,
Up and down, they play both sides.
Sometimes they win, more oft' they lose,
Most often miss, the grandest moves.
Belief in nothing, that's their lot.
Staying power, they have not.
Pockets empty, when the ride goes on,
No more lights a'flashing, no more song.
They curse the ones, that stayed the course,
Watch them ride off, upon "their" horse.
Savant. |
