Hello markets, my old friends
I'll dump two stocks at noon again
Because a system taught me neat things
Tends to peak while I am eating
But the system that was rampin' up my gains
Still reaps pain
Riskin' the frowns of clients

With reckless schemes their stocks had grown
Scary streaks of throttled moans
Fleeced some pesos from a sweet aunt
I churned nine scholars through the boldest plan
Then my highs were dashed by a clash with a neophyte
That nicked my might
And brushed the frowns of clients

And at the tradin' site I saw
Ten lousy weasels praising shorts
Weasels stalking without meeting
Weasels jeering without whistling
Weasels chiding longs when choices severed shares
No one dared
Incur the frowns of clients

"Rules, " say I, "Fool you, not pros"
Clients gripe and anger grows
"Cheer my blurbs that I might keep you
Trade my charts that I might ease blues"
But my blurbs, like giant cranes, drop wealth
And Gekko up the health of clients

And the weasels hounded prey
Spat with glee on slobs waylaid
And the time ran out with mourning
Bristled herd, as it was storming
And the Times said, "Reverse of the profits was driven by a funds-rate squall
An imminent fall"
Then twisters hit the towns of clients