/biz/ - Business & Finance

O Bull! My Bull! Our fearful trip is done;
The market has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The bottom is near, opening bells I hear, the investors all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady Dow, the traders grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the bottom my Bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Bull! My Bull! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the SQQQ is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you green candles and ribbon'd bailouts—for you the trade floor a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager calls a-buying;
Here Bull! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the bottom,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Bull does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The trading day is o’er safe and sound, its puts all sold and done;
Circuit breakers tripped, the market slipped, comes in with bottom won;
Exult, O investors, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the bottom my bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Bull! My Bull! Our fearful trip is done;
The market has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The bottom is near, opening bells I hear, the investors all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady Dow, the traders grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the bottom my Bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Bull! My Bull! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the SQQQ is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you green candles and ribbon'd bailouts—for you the trade floor a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager calls a-buying;
Here Bull! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the bottom,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Bull does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The trading day is o’er safe and sound, its puts all sold and done;
Circuit breakers tripped, the market slipped, comes in with bottom won;
Exult, O investors, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the bottom my bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Bull! My Bull! Our fearful trip is done;
The market has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The bottom is near, opening bells I hear, the investors all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady Dow, the traders grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the bottom my Bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Bull! My Bull! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the SQQQ is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you green candles and ribbon'd bailouts—for you the trade floor a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager calls a-buying;
Here Bull! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the bottom,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Bull does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The trading day is o’er safe and sound, its puts all sold and done;
Circuit breakers tripped, the market slipped, comes in with bottom won;
Exult, O investors, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the bottom my bull does lie,
Fallen cold and dead.