The Banjo
by Boyd Hudgens
A Banjo is an odd thing,
Four longs and one short string.
It matches the fingers on my hand,
That's natural I guess, made by man.
But when I pluck it,
Now there's a word…
A beautiful sound
Is immediately heard.
The notes run together,
Lickity split.
Eighth and sixteenth notes,
They never quit.
My mind switches gear,
As a banjo I near.
I can't let it sit,
I’ll pick it a bit!
As long as my fingers
Will move and bend,
I'll keep on picking
The Banjo, my friend.
