I scurry across your desk or garden bed, Clicking or squeaking, wherever I’m led.

I have two banks, but I do not have any capital. I am known for my liquidity.

Some white men in green suits, a bunch breaking bread As time goes by, a yellow dye pervades their garments threads Then longer still, their coffee spills and stains them all with brown Before too long those friends have gone, I ran them out of town

I am green in the fields, black at the market, and red at home.

I'm a creature of legend, a mysterious sight, With wings that glow, in the darkness of night. I'm a harbinger, of disaster's approach, A West Virginia legend, with an otherworldly broach.