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.