Poem: On The Aging Effects Of The Financial Crisis

When you were named Chair of the Fed,
Black hair adorned your beard and head.
With youthful vigour you raised rates,
So to avoid Greenspan’s mistakes.

But crisis came, and rates were slashed
As banks all hoarded excess cash.
And as your special programs grew,
Just look at what they did to you.

Your programs (what were they all called?)
Turned your beard white and your head bald.
But you’ve no time to look or care:
Your “green shoots plan” is constant prayer!

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