An ol’ wizard went flying out one dark ‘n windy day
At the Quidditch Cup he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of hooded freaks he saw
Plowing through the camping site, right through the cloudy draw
Their wands where spitting fire, their boots where made of steel
Their cloaks where black and shiny and their magic he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as some muggles hit the sky
The death eaters were marching by and he heard their mournful cry:
Yippee aye, Yippee eye o
The Dark Mark up in the sky
His face went pale, his eyes were blurred, his cloak all soaked with sweat
He mounted his broom to catch that herd, but he ain’t got caught ‘em yet
‘Cause they’re doomed to serve forever in the ranks of the Dark Lord
No pension for the wicked, they’ll be slayed by Voldemort
As the Death Eaters went by him, he heard one call his name
“If you wanna save your soul from death, or torture all the same
Then wizard join our army, or Unforgivable be our Curse
Enslaved just like a house-elf
Or maybe even worse.”
Yippee aye, Yippee eye o
The Dark Mark up in the sky
Dark Mark up in the sky
