I liked Gumby's poems so much that I thought it might be fun if we all had a crack at making up alternate lines to see what all the creative minds here can come up with. I'm going to post them each here separately. Maybe we can [bold the new line or addition using square brackets for our additions/changes].

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Twas the night before trading day, when all through the Hub,
No one was posting, not the lowliest grub;
The stock was hung up by MRS, (they didn’t care),
Hoping that complaints would fade - wouldn’t be there;

The investors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of dollar signs danced in their heads;
Everyone wondered about the imminent Release,
In Chorus sounded out, “Could we see it, pretty, pretty PLEASE?”

When out on the (inter)net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the windows (operating system) I flew like an eagle,
Opened the e-mails and threw out the beagle.

The mood on the HUB of the Winfield investors,
Gave off a glow, of multi-golden clusters,
When, what do you think Foley did seal,
I don’t believe it, more than ONE deal.

With good old’ Foley, so lively and quick,
Who knew in a moment, this was THE stock pick.
More rapid than eagles his releases they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"On, Rwanda! On Alberta, and now Libya,
What else can I add, ‘bout Tunisia!
To the top of the charts! to the top of the wall!
Now trade away! trade away! trade away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door,
The prancing and pawing - the tax collector.
As I fumbled around, and was turning around,
Down the chimney he came not making a sound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of tax notices he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

He was chubby and plump, like a jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know of what was ahead;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
Laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

Foley sprang to his desk, to his (IR) team gave a whistle,
And away the stock, flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as it flew like a kite,
"HAPPY TRADING TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT”