

 
(With apologies to "The Spell of the Yukon" by 
	Robert Service.)
"There are strange things done in the midnight sun
	By the men who moil for gold;
	The Arctic trails have their secret tales
	That would make your blood run cold . . ."
So begins a story of grit and glory:
	The Cremation of Sam McGee.
	I remember when, as a boy of ten,
	T'was the epitome of poetry.
We here unveil a gentler tale,
	Which still will stir the blood,
	Where heroes try, in coat and tie,
	To serve the public good.
* * *
There are strange things done in Washington
	When companies are sold.
	And paper trails tell lurid tales
	Of price hikes to unfold.
It is not nice to raise the price
	When rivals have disappeared.
	The problem, though, is how will we know
	Before the deal has cleared.
The cases we face are all over the place
	But, the strangest I've seen so far
	Was the time we took a good long look
	At pickles in a jar.
Now, you may say in a scornful way:
	"Who cares what the parties claim?
	A nickle's a nickle and a pickle's a pickle;
	They're all exactly the same!"
But, you see, they're not. Some like them hot
	And some like them cold and clear.
	We had to say: "What will you pay
	For one, if the other grows dear?"
We sacrificed leisure in order to measure
	Elasticity of demand.
	As we carefully counted, the evidence mounted.
	The pickles, it seems, had been scanned!
On these occasions, regression equations
	Are never considered a bore.
	The pluses and minuses cleared out the sinuses,
	And thrilled us all to the core.
"The Spell of the Yukon," indeed! The next time I read
	Those poems I loved long ago,
	About the quest for gold in the bitter cold
	And wolves that howl in the snow - -
I'll say: "My lad, you've never had
	A moment so sublime
	As that shining hour when market power
	Was checked in the nick of time!"
* * *
Today, throughout this favored land
	The sun is shining strong.
	The bands are playing everywhere,
	As children skip along.
	Because those pickles, those luscious pickles
	Still are sold for a song.
Tom Leary
	(With a last-minute nod to the
	next-best poem in the language.)
Presented at the Castro C. Geer Chapter of the Federal Trade Commission Alumni Association Annual Business Meeting, December 18, 2002.
