Summary
I wrote this while watching business folks go to work.
There walks a man in Italian-made caveman skins
A contemporary sin bathes his grin
And his fine hairstyle is brushed by the wind
With computer in-hand he tracks the market with his spear
His prey are stocks in the clear, he finds one near
And his suave German suit is the same as his peers
Here comes a man with a fine cloak and a song
His words all belong but are perfectly wrong
And his sonorous voice just goes on, and on, and on