In a dark and dingy dungeon,
Sitting in high dudgeon,
Sat Snape,
In a cape,
Being a curmudgeon.
Having painful anal retention,
He was thinking of detention,
For rape of canon,
By brats of fanon,
Deserving of retribution.
First on his ever-growing list,
As he slowly became pissed,
Was Harry Potter,
The dirty rotter,
Surely he won't be missed?
Then, there's that Know-it-All,
Did she think he'd crawl?
He smirked a grin,
Oh, to fill her in,
Or take her standing at a wall.
Another bottle lost its cork,
As he stabbed a chip with a fork,
To get Weasley,
Is easy-peasey,
And he sharpened his Spork.
(This stanza is dedicated to lady erin)
Longbotty who couldn't spell,
Terhe's a srtoy to tell,
Metenig him terhein,
Wulod be Lday Eirn,
He wulod cnogsin to hell,
Hoping it was only a blip,
He had another sip,
Another rudiment,
God-awful student,
And he would totally flip.
Calming, somewhat down,
Before him in brown,
Un-uniformed,
He stormed,
And gave Luna a frown.
After some untoward flack,
Satisfied he laid back,
He thought,
He ought,
Next time use the rack.
A/N: Sorry had to stop there. I'll try to write more when there's less wine in me.