I was recently going through some old files and found this parody of a British Christmas carol. I wrote it back in the early 1990s when futures trading was still open outcry, rather than electronic as it is now.
I wish you all a happy festive season and a wonderful 2019!
Good King Whileitlasts
Good King Whileitlasts look’d out, on a feast of tradin’,
All the trade lay round about, long and deeply laden.
Brightly climbed the price that night, through the spreads were cruel.
When a poor man came in sight, selling like a fool.
“Hither broker stand by me, if you know your calling.
Yonder local, who is he? From where comes all his selling?
“Sire he thinks it must make sense, perhaps against an option.
He has jumped down from the fence and now seeks out some action”.
“Take your cash and bring me mine, find another buyer,
Thou and I will make him whine, when we push it higher”.
Trade and broker forth they went, upward both together.
“The selling now must soon relate, it’s really now or never”.
“Sire, the market’s lower now and the shorts get stronger,
Fails my margins, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my cards and turn my page, shout my orders boldly;
We shall make the sellers rage, if we take them coldly”.
Alas the longs were stopp’d out and their wealth lay dinted.
For the shorts there was no doubt, all their gold just glinted.
Therefore trading men be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will end up poor shall find yourself a blessing.