A poem on Voldemort, waxing lyrical on all of his wondrous qualities.
|Ode to Voldemort
Oh the Great Lord Voldemort!
Thine eyes are like large rubies red,
You carry yourself with great deport
And love to munch on gingerbread.
Thine head is smooth, like a bowling ball
Your home is like a sepulchral.
With a brain the size of a Neanderthal,
You never will cease to enthrall...
Oh Voldie, thine eyes are red and beady,
And we must admit: they're rather freaky.
What's just as bad, or even worse,
You seem to have Mona Lisa's curse-
You've no eyebrows, not even a hair
And you're certainly not at all debonair.
Your skin is pale, like white A4 print paper,
Or a geisha, Edward Cullen, or an albino alligator
But the feature that is the worst of all
Is an obvious one, if we can recall.
It would be your nose, (or lack thereof)...
And we wonder if you have perfect vision,
Or wear contacts for optical precision.
Because you'll never put anything across that ridge
Or balance glasses on your nonexistent nosebridge.
And we liken you to a snub-nosed monkey,
Though you've never ever looked quite as spunky.
(You wear no fur, what can we say?
And you won't have it any other way)
When I see you,
It's like a spell- a crucio
(And I don't at all like this scenario)
And it pains my eyes to look upon your visage
Even if it's only a sculpture or an image.
For you are so hideous
And it's a bit mysterious:
I become quite delirious
And the pain's very serious...
Oh Voldemort, what can we do?
I highly doubt makeup would work for you.
We all feel strongly: make the measures more drastic-
How about we modify you with plastic?
Then you will look like your former self:
A really handsome leader.
You'll look a lot better than a common house elf,
And to serve you they'll be more eager!
It's probably unwise to show Voldemort this poem.