Sound of A tavern from a nearby building ?

So in the beginning of my story, the main character, is sitting at his window cutting a piece of wood, listening to the evening sounds. This is a medieval story, so nearby his house is a tavern, closing shop, rowdy playing arguing men, and a mother scolding her young ones. I just wanna know how I would describe all this. Give me your best paragraph! (5+ sentences)

 

This is going to be a 1st draft written during dead times in my job so it's not going to be amazing or anything (it probably won't even be good), also that is very little context so I'll have to add stuff that probably won't even be accurate to your story:

As the light died with the afternoon I decided to get close to my window to catch the last rays of usable sun to try and finish my carving, as I sat down the all familiar tavern noise came to me, the booming laugh of drunken or soon to be drunken men coming back from work, the arguing over petty things that may or may not devolve into a fistfight, the noises that had once been so distracting were now mere background entertainment at best. What did distract me was the unusual screech of a mother scolding her kids, the little rascals broke into Howard's shop apparently, and at closing time no less.

 

Shouldn't you be writing it, and asking for feedback?

 

Wow! This is amazing! Here's what I ended up writing:


Chapter One

The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground. The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orange tinge to the sky. The occasional barking of faraway dogs broke the silence of the arriving night. It was at these times that the gnawing pang of loneliness sunk deep in his soul. Oh, this humongous city in all its glory; it was brimming to the rim with hobgoblins and trobgoblins, and hubbergubers. But Gregel was the only runt goblin in this wretched place called HobGrob.

It's not that good I'm 0nly sixteen, but I really wanna become a good writer!

 

I would enjoy hearing more about runt goblins and HobGrob. I do like a good fantasy city full of roistering and spit and sawdust. The cheese toasties of literature.

Not without the mandatory two critiques in the workshop. So young, and yet so cunning.