Their spirits were sunken and low,
Their bags weighed more than a ton
There was neither sign nor show
When the Bull began his run.
The shills were shilling wall-to-wall,
The gig was up; they’d had their fun,
And every short got a margin call,
When the Bull began his run.
The candles green came fast and tall.
Each wick was bold, quick to stun.
His eyes burned red, and his horns did maul
When the Bull began his run.
Now fortune smiles upon the neet
His bags of gold gleam in the sun
Doubters dream of his balance sheet,
And every bear is left with none,
Since the Bull began his run.