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No. of Recommendations: 93
T'was the night before Christmas,
when all through the land
Not an investor was stirring, they all had been damned;
The stocks were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Greenspan soon would be there.
The traders were hiding all day in their beds,
in hopes that they'd get some relief from the fed;

And mamma in her towel, and I with no shirt,
Were suffering hard from this bad fiscal hurt,
When down in the pits there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.
The traders were crying, each one to a man,
And muttering and moaning, "Damn that Greenspan."
"A quarter of a point, is it too much to ask?
Just what will it take to bring him to task?"
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But panic and selling all fueled by the fear,

And a little old man, so bland and so boring,
If not for his powers we all would be snoring.
More rapid than pit bulls his governors came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Come join me, together, we'll drive away buyers!
To stifle the growth! To stop all the earnings!
We'll teach all these folks what it's like to be yearning!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
The rates were all raised, mounted up to the sky,
So those without houses could afford them no more,
And housing starts dropped straight through the floor.
And then, in a twinkling, the economy slowed
And tech stocks were halved, they no longer growed.

As I became weary, my portfolio sagged,
Down the chimney St. Greenspan came with a bag.
He was dressed all in fur, with new Gucci shoes,
He smiled and said, "I'm sorry, you lose."
And he went to the tree, and the toys that we lacked,
And he just shook his head "I won't roll the rates back!"

"I know that you think I took two thousand from you,
But all will be well in two thousand and two."
"And though you may grumble, and though you may hate,
I don't give a damn, I won't cut the rate."
And he took out a knife, like the claw of a cat,
And trimmed from my port five more pounds of fat.
"You're spoiled you know, form ten years of boom,
And there's nothing wrong with some Christmas gloom."

So the pink slips went out, before the big day
Telling the workers they wouldn't get paid;
And plants were shut down, and companies closed,
And bad spending habits by all were exposed;
The market it dropped, and it dropped and it dropped,
Until investors screamed out "WHEN WILL IT STOP?!?"
But St. Greenspan was deaf, he did not seem to care,
He slaughtered the bull and brought out the bear;
"That was too easy, in fact, just a cinch,
This year I'm enjoying being the Grinch."
Then I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

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