In the deepest, darkest corner of your brimming chest
Lies my grubby little package he tied with string himself.
Take me out, unwrap me, simply say a single word,
And in my glass his face shall now appear.
You and he can have a chat about what-not
And have no fear of discovery by anyone.
Now, however, the word no longer works.
The magic fails, and his face cannot appear.
The only thing to be seen is your own image,
Nothing but normal, as my mate is lost,
For Sirius is beyond the veil.