It’s New Year’s Eve the game the same
the PMs are nothing less than lame
leaving the bulls in utter shame

The bears have nothing at all to sing
they’ve made zilch from shorting bling
whipsawed from Texas to Beijing

Sorrow all who’ve played this game
the outcome always is the same
won our place in the Hall of Flame

But hark I hear another year
where all will play the bull and bear
laughter replace each falling tear

Get out those charts, those curvy lines
get them sharp as pitchfork tines
those stochs and pivots, all those signs

’16 will save us from our woes
gone will be those fearsome blows
I know which way this darn chart flows!