The Banjo - Poem by Edwina Reizer
I heard a banjo pluck a tune
and thought to myself 'it's only noon.'
Shouldn't banjos be plucked at night
while girls are clogging in delight?
I turned and saw the banjo player
and could tell that he was just a purveyor
of musical beats for all the girls
with round hoop skirts and golden curls.
Dance away you southern belles
while the magnolia sweetly smells.
For when the banjo is all strummed out
the gents shall clap and loudly shout.
'More, more. It's only noon.
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