You’re a Mean One, Mr. Snape

to the tune of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” from How the Grinch Stole Christmas


You’re a mean one,
Mister Snape.
You scare children with your stare.
You’re as smelly as a cabbage,
Right hand man to Slyth’rin’s heir,
Mister Snape.
You’re a bad professor, ugh, that greasy black hair.

You’re a monster,
Mister Snape.
You could petrify a ghost.
Your brain is full of Dark Arts,
And your mor’ls are gray at most,
Mister Snape.
I’d like to smack you with a thirty-foot Quidditch post.

You’re a vile one,
Mister Snape.
I’m glad Fluffy bit your leg.
You have all the tender sweetness of a Horntail guarding eggs,
Mister Snape.
Given the choice between the two of you,
I’d take the Horntail guarding eggs.

You’re a scoundrel,
Mister Snape.
You’re the prince of potions class.
Always sabotaging students in the hopes that they won’t pass,
Mister Snape.
Your ploys will never work on Harry, thanks to his
Superior sass.

You nauseate me,
Mister Snape,
Like a draught of Goyle’s smell.
Your fascination with the Dark Arts caused her death the night he fell,
Mister Snape.
Your soul is C+ quality, considering the vast number of people you probably tortured and killed, plus the constant abuse of your one true love’s only child: If you want to improve, you’d need
One hell of a spell.

You’re a foul one,
Mister Snape.
And as Lily’s friend you stunk!
If you think that tor’turing Harry
Shows your love, you must be drunk,
Mister Snape.
The three words that best describe the Snape/Lily ship are as follows and I quote:
Sink, sank, sunk.

Madison Ford

I’m a native Texan currently living in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and our feisty dog Ellie. I’m a poet, a reader, and I host and produce MuggleNet’s mental health Harry Potter podcast, Beyond the Veil. I love rock climbing, hiking, and searching for seashells on Oregon beaches.