The Sorting Hat's Lament
I'm the Sorting Hat you see,
No hat is smart as me.
Year in and year out I wait
For that stool to emerge and the kids to sit.
It's a boring life you see,
Nothing but noggins through infinity.
Only one night a year do I get some sun,
But even then I can't have my fun.
Little brats come and little brats go,
And I can't tell them what is so.
They will never amount to much,
Except for such-and-such.
Now see little Harry Potter, so scared and brave,
Hufflepuff would help him avoid an early grave.
Slytherin would teach him cunning,
So can leave danger flat out running.
Ravenclaw would teach him information,
But he would also develop a book obsession.
(In quite a Hermione Granger fashion.)
So into Gryffindor he goes,
Whether he will graduate, no one knows.
Oh, I hope that abused little boy,
Will survive being Dumbledore's toy.
He's barely survived that git's games,
I hope school will not be more of the same.
Somehow I fear he will live up to his name.