I decided to change things up this week and offer a bit of creative writing. Here is an ode to the free market that I worked out this weekend. Clearly, I am somewhat better at prose than poetry, but perhaps some of you, dear readers, will like it.
An Ode to the Free Market
Free is what they call you yet so often you are bound
By evil men with regulations tightly you are wound
“Tis for our good it is not free,” so they say
And seek to drag you through the muck and cast your worth away
Yet I know truly like a wild horse should you be free
And the feckless doubters will have no choice but to turn and flee
From your hoof beats sounding with the pound of industry, of work
Your undaunted might and fearless gait do the skeptics greatly irk
O Market, your scions stand tall and proud in your defense
We shall fight all regulators no matter how immense
For no amount of price control can better thy efficiency
And each time it is tried fools are shown their own deficiency
Like a stallions glide past the tired packhorse Socialism
Across the Plain of Plenty by your boundless dynamism
John Engle
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