THE WET NYROND Words byZan, tune 'The Green Gryphon' by Meg Davis Behold the wet Nyrond who isn't complaining In spite of the fact that it's cold and it's raining He'll wait on your doorstep for hour upon hour Until you decide to get out of the shower. He'll stand there and drip on your carpets and rugs And check you for cameras and microphone bugs He'll leave his wet clothes on the back of your chairs And cover your towels with wet Nyrond hairs. He'll tell you his troubles in accents most tragic While food and drink vanish as if by dark magic He'll spin you wild tales of his tortuous travels While time like his memory slowly unravels... And when you announce that it's time to retire He'll curl up at once in a chair by the fire But somehow when morning creeps under the door He's snug 'neath the covers and you're on the floor. You can send him away with a flea in his ear And weeks will go by when he doesn't appear And just when you think he's been taken for ransom He'll knock down your fence in a runaway hansom But though you get tired of his lies and his gall It feels good to know that it's you that he'll call...