VERSE:
Harry Potter spent his summers waiting for the fall;
He’d count the days, and dream each night of Hogwarts’ distant call.
The Dursley’s, Harry’s relatives, were wretched as can be-a;
He prayed each night to Satan that they’d die from gonhorrea.
But one day he recieved a note that Hogwarts had burned down:
“Oh no!” he cried, and quickly donned a disappointed frown.
He trashed his room and tore his books, and then went for his trunk,
But Dumbledore popped out and bellowed, “Harry! You’ve been Punk’d!”
CHORUS:
Run, Harry, run, Harry, run!
You killed your headmaster, now your problem’s just begun!
Run, Harry, run, Harry, run, Harry, run!
Who can fend off Voldemort now?
No one.