The hue and a cry
over a fry
causes me to sigh.
The noise and the din
keeps one under the bin
as it is akin to the rattle of a tin.
The wails and the trails
emanate due to the trials
strike like a gale.
The ebb and flow
of the ocean in a slow
warns of a terrible blow.
The unusual over the usual
does not hover over the casual
it is being an unforeseen ritual.
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