(no subject)

[ladymirth]

This hilarious little folk-song of the HP world was concocted by dorkorific, a.k.a Rave, who is better known for being one half of the Shoebox Project. It was snagged by Cassandra Claire, known to LJdom as epicyclical, for her monumental classic of HP fanfiction, The Draco Trilogy.

I May Be A Tiny Chimney Sweep But I've Got An Enormous Broom

Oohhhhhhh,

The chimneys were dirty at Mrs. McFry's
And I'll grant they were worse down at Molly O'Clue's
But the chimney sweep said, with a gleam in his eye
"I've got a great tool here for cleaning the fluuuuuues...

A chimney sweep's job can be boring and dirty,
A chimney sweep ain't drawn the best lot in life
But who else could manage, without getting flirty,
To clean out the smokestack on the mayor's young wife?

"My boy," said the mother, "You're smart as a whip,
But don't be a lawyer or doctor, my son;
Take the job of your father, that worthy young rip,
For the chimney sweep's job is a sight more fun!"

I met a young lady in Lower-South-Waine
And I asked why the roofs there were covered in grime
"Is your chimneysweep ill?" but she laughed and explained
"He never cleans chimneys, but his service? Sublime!"

Said the young maiden fair to the chimney sweep bold,
"The clogged chimney's making it warm in the room!"
But the chimney sweep grinned, showing teeth made of gold,
And said "That ain't the clogging, dear, that's just me broom!"

Our sweep tied the knot on a fair April day,
His wedding, 'tis true, was the best of our lives--
A child nearly drowned when they tossed the bouquet--
There were sixty-nine priests there, and seventy wives!

"I've grown old," sighed the sweep, "and my wits have got loose,
I can scarce tell me da from me poor younger brother.
But at least for the wife I've got one great excuse,
For at my age, I can't tell one bed from another!"

'Twas a tragical day, when our sweep passed away
(He fell down a chimney and busted his head)
And the ladies of our town all wept with dismay
Until walking to the coffin, a young urchin said:

"Since I was a lad, this man trained me to sweep
A good man, a kind man, as you'll all agree
But I'm telling you now, my dear friends, please don't weep,
For his trade will be continued, girls--he left his broom to me!"

So raise up your glasses, yes, raise high your drinks,
I'll buy you a round and we'll drink it down deep
Let's have us a toast 'fore we catch forty winks,
May we all be as lucky as our little chimney sweep!

***