Ode to Greggo
Freein' himself of all the lab rat days,
'Cause he's just wishing to be a CSI.
Gonna get less cash, says the boss.
Some people just wanna ask him why.
He's a true rocker at heart, yeah, yeah,
But got his first chem-set at age seven.
And he arrives to the scene with a messy trunk,
And this makes everything less like heaven.
Warrick tells him to tidy things up.
With his screwed up kit, he's got the call,
In his gray t-shirt and baggy jeans,
And his spiky 'do, highlighted and all.
Leggo our Greggo, just let him go,
And watch as he dances through the lab.
Blaring music and a exotic dancer's hat,
Damn, those times were just so fab.
Boss-man tells him to keep it down,
Take his hat off and get back to work.
Griss, lighten up, let the boy have some fun.
Gotta admit, he's got a lot of quirks.
But it's no more dancing mad scientist,
But we'll settle for Papa Olaf anecdotes.
And if he decides to run for prez,
He'll definitely get all our votes.
So leggo our Greggo, just let him go.
And sit back and see,
As he catches the bad guys
And becomes that CSI he wants to be…