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.