It is a wild and stormy night
oh hear the elm trees wail,
as in the fast declining light
they bend before the gale.
See along beneath the trees
the grassy fields of surging seas,
hear how the wind along the eaves
brush the door, with withered leaves.
See the clouds across the sky
on brooms of birch, like witches fly
mountains roofed by low sky
birds of sorrow, hear my cry.
Splitting the mountains, causing isles to be
levered them up, and rolled them out to sea.