The Futures Market 

By Chris McClure  Contributing Editor

The futures market has been described

As just like riding broncs; 

You’re up, then down and all around 

And likely to get stomped. 

You’re riding high, your grip is tight 

You’re spurring point to hip 

Then suddenly it jumps sideways 

And your hand begins to slip. 

There’s just no guessing up or down 

It all comes into play 

You hang on tight and think you’re right 

And you begin to pray. 

Then suddenly with hind feet down 

And nose up in the air 

You’re thinking, “Hey, I’ve got this whipped!” 

And spur without a care. 

Until it jams the brakes on hard 

And you begin to tip 

The dirt comes up and slaps your face 

To end your mighty trip.