You know me as THE SORTING HAT,
A special kind of bonnet,
Who can see all that lies inside
Your head, when I am on it.
But also there are OTHER HATS,
All thinking hatty thoughts,
I dedicate this song to them!
(I speak, and they cannot.)
You might be in proud GRYFFINDOR,
Where dwell the true and brave,
Who stand against both kith and kin,
When there is more to save.
Or you may be in HUFFLEPUFF,
Where loyalty may thrive,
(Whose loyalty is given first
To everyone alive.)
Or also in wise RAVENCLAW,
Of head rather than heart,
Wizards who know wizards have no
Reason to stand apart.
Or maybe cunning SLYTHERIN,
Whose members scheme and plot
Whose coils extend to foe and friend
Both magical and not.
YOU MIGHT THINK, as you're magical
You are a special race,
That other men are little things
To be put in their place.
BUT YOU ARE MEN (and women, too)
Just as I am a hat,
And NO AMOUNT of Magic Spells
Will go to changing that.
I SORT YOU AS THEY SORTED YOU,
You few out from the many,
But every man in every house,
Is just as good as any.
BURN DOWN THE WALLS of Wizardry,
SHOW MAGIC to the masses,
This hidden house is just one house
—it is a house of asses.