The Wishalur

Tinker-trank, tinker-snap, I see the Wishalur on the tracks,

Ebin-tann, ebin-krann, wishes it grants, whoever gowran.

Trish-leapin, trish-lapin, raise my bow without missin',

Golarag, golarag, it mocks me, that rebelkin lag.

Gressendo is my name, and I plan to play this prolossen game.

On my father's name, I shall end this without lamé.

Mine wife and seven children are a-waiting me,

Ready to dine once I bring a fine prize, for dear Emi.

The Wishalur tonkles it's twashlon cress,

And swims in the sky like a sea-wogglin' bess.

Emi, my child, you shall see this Wishalur,

Even if it means sacrificing my Rosenguir.

Adoe! Look! The Wishalur! Eating the swandalar fruits!

Aim true, mine Rosenguir, for the Wishalur is near it's roots.

Zwish! It flies! Wounding the Wishalur's sixth hind leg,

While it falls, twashlon head hung low, it begs.

"Spare me, Tinrothen hunter, and I shall grant thy's wish."

Oh, blue body of wishes, whose home is near the lake of blish.

"Mine daughter small, frail and weak, wishes to see you, in Mineek,

Where the quillalilas grow, she gathers, please visit her."

The Wishalur nods its twashlon head, and I set it free up ahead.

Mine daughter, your wish will be granted, so please enchant it.

The Wishalur finds the Tinro daughter, who was not small at all.

Rosen lips, raveneé hair, farin skin, twas a lonely maiden of Tinro kin.

The lonely maid cries softly with blissen tears

While the Wishalur approaches without fear,

And sings its song;

"Ber Swandalin fawn, and Swandalar mower,

Quillalilas are Wishalur's favorite flower."

The maid listens without a cower.

She wishes for a friend, so the Wishalur pretends,

But in the end, he found a true friend.

A time they spend and truly they blend,

And the Wishalur's heart cannot mend

Without his sweetheart, who understands.

So he becomes a human man, for her alone,

As they wed underneath the quillalilas throne.