Quidditch, as Shakespeare
Now the racing broom doth zoom,
And the quaffle passing fast
Puts the snitch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a bludger,
Now it is the time of day,
And the crowds, cheering loud,
Every team lets forth his seeker,
In the air and wind to fly,
And we Gryffindors that do cheer,
Against the Slytherin team,
From the presence of losing,
Following victory like a dream,
Now are winning, not losing,
Shall we reward our faithful house,
Gryffindors are sent before,
To wipe old Slytherin off the board.