The howls of the darkness’s vast hoards,

Rides through the scanty shanty boards,

The howling, the calling, all reaching the shore,

As the shaking, shivering, hand latches the door,

As the quaking, quailing, hand bolts the door.

The roiling laughter of the screaming squall,

Shakes the shanty and threatens to fall,

The thundering, the rumbling, rattling the sand,

As the wiggling, wobbling, house makes a last stand,

As the jolting, jiggling, house stands its last stand.

The storm is gone, the hurricane done,

The howling darkness has had its fling,

But the shanty is now all gone,

Fighting the darkness was indeed a song to sing.