He made his Mark in international dealing,
his forte. He was full of flair and feeling.
though once too often overstepped his ceiling,
then through the floor his credit fell a-reeling.
When all was over, it was quite revealing.
He’d undercut, but said it wasn’t stealing.
The moral of my tale, now he is kneeling:
With cash don’t over do it into spieling,
or else in Court quite soon you shall be squealing,
and when the judge your fate has finished sealing,
the sentence must be served, no sense appealing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem