A valentine, to Percy, from Fred and George:
Always her favorite, brightest and best,
Was our Percy, the Prefect, the perfect, the pest.
A fine mama's boy, her pride and her joy,
Till he followed Fudge into You-Know-Whose ploy.
Now, we're not too happy, you've known all along,
But at least you can't go on pretending we're wrong.
You've made our Mum cry,
For which most men would die,
Or at least have to go somewhere foreign.
But that wouldn't pay,
And it's time that we say,
She loves you. Get back here, you moron.
Always her favorite, brightest and best,
Was our Percy, the Prefect, the perfect, the pest.
A fine mama's boy, her pride and her joy,
Till he followed Fudge into You-Know-Whose ploy.
Now, we're not too happy, you've known all along,
But at least you can't go on pretending we're wrong.
You've made our Mum cry,
For which most men would die,
Or at least have to go somewhere foreign.
But that wouldn't pay,
And it's time that we say,
She loves you. Get back here, you moron.