You Are Young, Foolish Trader

With apologies, once more, to Mr. Dodgson:

“You are young, foolish Trader,” the shrewd sage said,

“And you clearly have mountains to learn;

You speak about Ratios, Values and Spread –

Do you plan by this money to earn?”

“I was told,” then the Trader replied to the sage,

“By a teacher both clever and wise

That when you’ve no knowledge the Markets to gauge,

These numbers can bolster your lies!”

“You are young,” said the sage, “and have not yet been trained,

So that first folly I will forgive –

Yet you think all this chaos in books is explained!

Will your job your psychosis outlive?”

“In my college they taught us,” the Trader replied,

“That the answers in books are but few,

But you cannot go wrong with a book as your guide –

For this secret is known just to you.”

“You are young,” said the sage, “and in ignorance speak,

And your brain little learning does hold;

Yet you forecast the state of the Markets each week –

Don’t you think that is fearfully bold?”

“You can learn in each B-School that merits the name

There’s a price for refusing to guess,

And as long as you’ve thought of a scapegoat to blame,

The price of an error is less.”

“You are young,” said the sage, “and I venture to say

There are things even you do not know;

Yet you rival a scholar whose temples are grey

In conceit; tell me, how is this so?”

“I have answered three questions; I’ll answer no more,”

Said the Trader, “I will not partake

Of this half-witted dialogue. There is the door –

Be off! I’ve Excel sheets to make.”