* With sincere apologies to Mr. Robert Service
There were strange things done by fluorescent sun
By the Federal Reserve of old
From Treasury pops to secret swaps
That would make your blood run cold
The Wall Street nights have seen strange sights
But the strangest ever, I’m told
Was that year, oh so mean, known as twenty thirteen
When they crushed the price of gold.
.
Now their program of easing had started a’wheezing
It was growing stale and weak
And they needed QE to infinity since
The economy was bleak
But they knew without doubt if they started to shout
“We’re full-on monetizing!”
They’d see interest explode and the US debt load
Would foil all their devising.
.
But the chairman stayed cool, he was nobody’s fool
So he didn’t shout or holler
He knew that if he could make gold sell-off
It would hide the foundering dollar
So he issued his orders to sell across borders
And the bullion banks complied
And they sold. And they sold. Paper mountains of gold
And the market recoiled at the tide.
.
But at some point that paper, despite rumors of taper,
Was a promise to deliver the metal
And the Chinese could see opportunity
And they bought those contracts to settle
Yes, the lower it got the more strongly they bought
For to ship it to the Swiss
To be quietly cast into kilogram bars
Before people noticed something amiss.
.
Meanwhile, as price was jolting down,
The banks called up the Fed.
“She canna’ take much more of this, Chairman!
When our gold is gone, we’re dead!”
The Chairman, nonplussed, assured “What’s the fuss?
You can raid the GLD.
Plus we’ll sell from OUR vault to avoid a default
But to manage perception is key!”
.
The banks weren’t assured. They proclaimed “That’s absurd!
Folks will know all those tons came from you!”
But the Chairman’s reply, with a wink of his eye,
Would mollify all but a few:
“We’ve the press on our side, and not to be snide,
But they’ll write whatever we tell them.
Just peddle some tale about the end of the bull
And if people have metals, to sell them.”
.
So gold and silver sold off, and the analysts scoffed:
Falling prices prove dying demand.
But all the while certain buyers just smiled
And that metal was bought with both hands.
.
At the end of the year Fed success was clear
With the metals near multi-year lows
And there were no audits, and the Chairman got plaudits
For his “brilliant” tapering pose.
As prepared to retire, the Chairman
Was feted and praised for stock’s gains
And the bankers got paid, politicians got laid,
Life was good in the land of Keynes.
.
But something was brewing, far over the seas
Dark rumors of debts to be paid
Of currency changes and metals exchanges
And the gold-backed settling of trade
Of six thousand tons imported to China
Or is ten a bit closer-on?
With some privately thinking “The dollar is stinking,
I wonder how it stacks with the Yuan?”
.
T’was the final day of the Chairman’s reign
His great retirement bash
And every financial tycoon would be there
To toast him (and his free cash)
But the Chairman just couldn’t shake the feeling
Of something weighing on his mind
So impetuously, he’d chosen, before it was frozen
To use his clearance one last time.
.
He phoned, scratched his beard, then the copter appeared
And whisked him to the gates
He showed his ID for the guards to see
And they shuttled him past the grates.
“Wait here” he said to the watchman inside
“I’d rather go on alone”
And he stepped cautiously, while he fished for the key,
‘Cross the slate-gray quarried stone
And with naught but a lantern, he swung wide the door
And the stale air blew past his face
And he willed his hand to raise the light
For to gaze on his private disgrace.
.
The vault was old. It was empty and cold
As bleak as the march of Sherman’s.
There were just a measly 200 tons left
And he owed that to the Germans.
The chairman shivered. It had all been delivered
To settle accounts and the score
And he searched in the quiet and could not deny it
The once great hoard was no more.
.
And to his surprise, he felt starting to rise
A sense of deep dread like a squall
And he thought, in confusion, “Wasn’t this Keynes conclusion?
That this shouldn’t matter at all?”
In the darkness he shouted at his partners in crime
“What of you, Mr. Greenspan? Or Burns?
What of you, Chairman Eccles? Or you, Chairman Miller?
At dis-hoarding, we ALL took our turns!”
But his voice merely echoed through the cavernous vaults
And it sounded a lot like a tomb.
Then the Chairman did see what his legacy would be…
And he quietly left the room.
.
There were strange things done by fluorescent sun
By the Federal Reserve of old
From Treasury pops to secret swaps
That would make your blood run cold
The Wall Street nights have seen strange sights
But the strangest ever, I’m told
Was that year, oh so mean, known as twenty thirteen
When the last of the wealth was sold.
