In the original version of the song, Naydreen just says things that are funny. That version wasn't quite bawdy enough for me, so I edited. In my version, Naydreen is a Santharian woman (read: hooker) who makes bawdy malapropisms to increase her business. She really is pretty (read: really) but has the worst choice of words; and so famous are her efforts to increase business (Read:hooking) that it's a well-known Santharian song. In honor of the actual good idea and well-written song, here's their verse (the rest you will see in this post are my parody of that song, no copyright infringement intended, blahblahblah):
She invited the preacher to her house so they say,
She said, “It's a party, I'm 19 today.
Ma’s bought me a dress and a bonnet so cute,
So come round and see me in my birthday suit.
We heard what she said, and we knew what she meant
we heard what she said, and we knew what she meant!”
So... I feel like that today. Stupid as Naydreen.
Why? Firstly, nightmares. Not bad as yesterday's, but they couldn't be, not when I was so close to my guiding light. No, sir. Even fallen like slab, she still is my protector. Just mostly from myself.
And also, you know, the occasional share of ultimatum's from Finley.
I feel like whenever I start to get happy, I get reminded of how much I've been a monster. To Ryan. To Elizabeth. To Finley, now.
I keep hearing people say that he's the "right choice," like I have a choice at all.
Naydreen cleans the outside o'her house so pristine
when the rain starts with her mop, with her mop will she clean
with her white shirt on the planks, on the planks she will lean:
'Love, aren't they the finest that you've ever seen!'
We heard what she said and we knew what she meant
we heard what she said and we knew what she meant!"
I don't have a choice. A choice would involve there being something else to pick, and I don't. This whole "Me or the Roses? Katie's friendship or my love?" business is pressing and destroying, and it's much harder to make up a smile in the mornings. So I've been spending a lot of my mental time with Naydreen.
Naydreen works around at the post here in town
she licks all the stamps, jewels a-flash in the sun
the men, in no hurry, quite ready to lounge
an' she'll say, 'Darlin' no fears, extra spit on this one!'
We heard what she said and we knew what she meant,
we heard what she said and we knew what she meant!
I sang a few verses for Finley today to keep away whatever he was going to "advise" me on next, and it worked. He hasn't laughed so hard in ages.
Last night was pretty cool, too. I wrote some papers for Katie, got out of the house. And yes, you know, two hours of sleep, but that's totally worth it. It's fine. I can sit here and sing to myself until my day begins.
"You're awesome, you know that?" She'd said to me. "I'd be so fucked without you.... and that's horrible of me to say, but it's true." And she'd turned back over and went to sleep on that bigger-than-mine bed of hers, and that's how I felt: stupid as Naydreen.
Naydreen likes to wander the docks with her eye
and sailors bring scarves for her fine eyes to see
one asked about length, knowin' quite what he'd buy
she said, 'See here, my lad, any length is just fine!'
We heard what she said and we knew what she meant
we heard what she said and we knew what she meant!
Why was I doing this? Why was I sitting here writing papers? She said it was because I wanted to help her, because I was a good person, but I'm not. I am a horrible person. I was there to see her smile and be near her and hear her breath. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing papers or cleaning or eating her food. Whatever I'm doing, if she's there, I'm happy--and doesn't that make me stupid as my Naydreen?
I can't know. But I wrote and wrote and wrote and thought and thought and thought, and whenever I got frustrated about this piece of lighting information or that play ideal, I'd just turn and look at her, and realize she was sleeping peacefully--realize she'd wake me up if I did sleep and something in my head went wrong, because I think she'd know before anyone else did:
"Are you at the point where you just don't want to sleep?"
"A little." She stared. The brow furrowed in annoyance at my purposefully vague answer, because I don't want to say, yes, I'm terrified to sleep, please keep me up?
"Payton." A threatening tone. "Are you afraid to sleep? Are you at that point?"
I nod slowly. "Yes.... but I'm also tired." True, and slightly less vague. Understanding floods her features. I wonder if, like vampires are supposed to, she can see fear on my face. Sense it hiding in my heart.
"Then sleep."
"Not yet." Please?
"Then one more paper. THEN you sleep." She might not like giving orders, but she does when she needs to.
When we were young, we would play in the fields
we'd swim in the rivers and we'd climb in the trees
with her her skirts all a-rumpled, she'd wink and she'd say:
'if it isn't the biggest tree as ever'd been seen!'
We heard what she said and we knew what she meant
we heard what she said and we knew what she meant!
"Maybe I don't deserve you," she said. "Maybe he's right."
That's so far from correct I can't even put a label on it--and why do you get to say that, eh? Why? There isn't a choice. There isn't a choice. Are you all listening? The half you're pushing for me to choose won't let me chose it. I can't--I can't chose what isn't offered me. Get off your horses, and cheer for Naydreen.
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