Amidst the howling winds and raging rain, I stood my ground, despite the hurricane. A tempest of French people, wild and free, Storming through the streets with such intensity.

Their language flowed like a roaring river, Their voices carrying with such fervor. But in the midst of the chaos and the pain, I saw a way to weather the hurricane.

For in their hands, they held baguettes, As if they were the only way to forget, The storm that raged, the winds that blew, The torrential rain that soaked us through.

And so, with a stroke of inspiration, I grabbed a baguette with great determination, And held it high, like a mighty sword, A shield against the hurricane's cruel accord.

With each gust of wind and each pelting drop, I wielded my baguette with grace and prop, And watched as the French people slowly calmed, Their voices fading like a distant song.

And as the winds began to die, I looked around with a sense of pride, For though the storm had raged and roared, My baguette had helped to weather the storm.

So let the hurricanes of French people blow, For I am strong, and with my baguette in tow, I'll stand my ground and weather the show, A force to be reckoned with, come rain or snow.