Tuesday, August 24, 2010

RIP, Robert Frost...

Whose stops are these I think I know
His desk is in the other bank though
He will not see me standing here
To watch his stops filling up slow

My little model must think it queer
To position without a TP near
Between the hols and the year close
The most illiquid evening of the year

He gives the screen a reminder shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the beep
Of rejected bids and views fake

The stops are lovely, large and deep
But I have positions to keep
And pips to go before I TP
And pips to go before I TP...

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