Poetry for Voldemort . . . . . . Almost

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

Where did that Harry Potter go

Be he rich or be he poor

I'm sure I heard

That Potter Snore

Waking the Spirit

Of Christmas Past

And a Elf and a Hobbit

In Gormenghast

As well as JK Rowling

Asleep in Bed

Which is like biting?

The hand

From which you’re fed

Or maybe it’s that Gandalf chap

And some cunning scheme

So I can’t nap

Or I could just be having

A terrible dream

Like that Cursed Child

Who has witches seen?

I am told there are three

And their mate Macbeth

And if you see them

It is certain death

With their eye of newt

Tail of a dog

Sherbet bon bons

And the leg from a fermented frog

And people

Point and say I'm mad

Yes point and laugh

Which is rather bad

But the Banshees

You see will get them all

When I give them

My werewolves call

And the banshees will swoop

And vampires will bite

And monsters will scare

Long into the night

And I will tell all

It’s that Harry Potters fault

For beating up Voldemort

And bringing his evil empire to a halt

And he Snores (that’s Harry not Eric)

I'm sure Voldemort was Eric to his mates

Well I always called him Eric

Although I'm not sure he liked it much

And he said I snored

But it was not me it was that Harry

No it was

Honest

I dont think my poetry career is going to well at present

But its an acquired taste