Someone recently suggested I do a oneshot about Crabbe and Goyle attempting poetry. Since I have probably the worst case of writer's block known to man, I shall attempt an accurate representation of Crabbe and Goyle's poetry. Be warned, however: Your mortal eyes may not be accustomed to the glory of their literary genius.

Day One

my undurware
by vincent crabbe

i lik my undurware
theyd b all i ware
butt every1 sez no
they all suk

Um....that's really creepy. --Draco

skwirelz
by gregory goyle

skwirlz ar nice
speshully on rice
or with ice creem
yummmm

u wat????
by vincent crabbe

u eet skwirlz???
can i hav sum???

wat???
by gregory goyle

y?

Um, guys? You can't exactly make a poem just out of the letter Y...
And do you really eat sqirrils?

ur lame
by gregory goyle

draco ur lame
lamer then the rane
or a gy with a cane
or a trane

Trains aren't lame....we ride one to school.

Day Two

dumbuldorr
by vincent crabbe

dumbuldorr is old
and he haz a beerd
its weerd

You're weird.

parchmint
by gregory goyle

parchmint is nice
like rice

Huh?

Day Three

lunch
by vincent crabbe

i lik lunch
itz nice to munch
lik a bunch
of bugs!

Not even going to touch that one.

Day Four

Hey, everyone. Draco Malfoy here. If you're looking for the rest of Crabbe and Goyle's poetry....well, you could try the loo, but all you'd find is ashes. Yeah...I burned 'em all. See, they decided to team up and write one called "ur mum" and....yeah. It's gone now. You're welcome.

Day Five

no moar
by vincent crabbe and gregory goyle

no moar poums
draco burnd them all
like a waturfall
of dirt

it sukked
lets go beet him up
draco ur gonna die

ps ur mums fat
fatter than a bat
that ayt a mat
and a rat

Yes, I know that was random. Like I said, I've had a horrible case of writer's block AND a bad case of the flu.