Twas The Night Before Christmas, When All Through Wall Street...

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Wall Street,
Not a guru was stirring, �mongst the trading elite.
The stocks were all laid on the exchange floor with care,
In hopes that a bull market soon would be there.

The brokers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of stock gains danced in their heads.
Readers in �kerchiefs, and I in my cap,
We all settled our brains for a long winter�s nap.

When out on the Street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the marble of the NYSE,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the powers that be.
When, what with my wondering eyes should I spy,
But a mischievous stockbroker yelling, �Sell!� and, �Buy!�

With his sly little grin, he looked quite like trouble,
I knew in a moment it must be a bubble.
More rapid than eagles his stock picks they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

�Now Groupon! Now, Zynga! Pandora and LinkedIn!
Someday maybe Facebook for money to be sinked in!
To the top of the market! To the top of the Wall!
Now buy them up! Buy them up! Buy them up all!�

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to IPOs the troubled stocks flew,
Into portfolios of junk bonds and ETFs too.

Just then, in a twinkling, I heard in the dark,
People shouting and drumming in Zucotti Park.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney a Stock Market Santa did bound!