A Christmas Poem'Twas the week before Christmas, from here to Timbuktu
Not a creature was stirring, not even Attila Hajdu;
The stock certs were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a licensing deal soon would be there;
The investors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of US dollars danced in their heads;
And Howard et al were all wishing with might,
That this time their predictions were right.'