Goldengrove unleaving

Paulson are you aching
Over Laissez-Faire’s unmaking?
Risk, like useless VAR, you
Can’t your job prepare for, can you?
Ah! as the task grows bolder
It will gray your baldness older
By and by, nor spare your eye
Though worlds of shattered markets lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, Hank, the game:
Market’s failings are the same.
Nor trade, no nor chart, expressed
What wealth held here, not possessed:
It is the debt we have scorn for,
It is Paulson you mourn for.