"H don't howl in iambic pentameter". Yeah right.

Oh the hurricane was howling,
And the sky was grump and scowling,
And the mist was out a-prowling,
On that cold and scary night.


And the lonely winds were shrieking,
And the dark, black clouds were leaking,
And the sky seemed to be speaking
Now, in dazzling bursts of light.


Oh the trees were all a-swaying,
And the villagers were praying,
For the night seemed to be saying,
That nobody would be spared.


And the priestesses were preaching,
With their priestly voices screeching,
And the village was beseeching
Gods who hardly ever cared.


And the children were all crying,
And the mothers, they were sighing
For the stormy nights were trying
times, as trying as can be.


And a lunatic was talking
to himself, and he was rocking
on a chair, and this was shocking
Since the lunatic was me.