Tag Archives: poem

 

XmasTree2014

Decorations by Dalton's direction!

On the 1st day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
a banjo in a pear tree!

On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
two mandolins and a banjo in a pear tree!

On the 3rd day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
three violins, two mandolins, and a banjo in a pear tree!

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
four good guitars, three violins, two mandolins, and a banjo in a pear tree!

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
five.....doghouse......basses! Four good guitars, three vi'lins, two mandolins, and a banjo in a pear tree!

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

12 jammers jamming

11 singers singing

10 tuners tuning

9 Dobros dancing

8 vampers vamping

7 chunkers chunking

6 cloggers clogging

5 doghouse basses

4 good guitars

3 violins

2 mandolins

And a banjo in a pear tree! (Hope it's a Stelling!)

Murphy HenryHere’s another banjo poem, this one written by Edward Morris who now writes for CMT.com. He says it was written “some time ago under the spell of Pete Seeger.” Thank you much, Ed, (as we say in the Shenandoah Valley) for letting us post it.

THE BANJO IS A RUBE

The banjo is a rube,
long-necking into town,
slick-headed and
defensively keyed-up
to glib impertinence.

It is the village infidel,
wise-cracking the bowed heads,
plucking from crinkled knees
to tapping toes,
the Sabbath zombies into sin.

It is a guerilla
starved down
to the desperate energy
of stretched nerves,
sniping at fat pianos in full dress.

It is a pensioner,
retired to dusty corners,
pin-striped and stiff,
humming at night
an agile frolic.

Edward Morris

I must tell you that I got acquainted with Ed last year via email when he posted an article about Rhonda Vincent (January 22, 2008) for the CMT.com Blog. Titled “Deep in the Bosom of Bluegrass,” the article quoted something I’d said about Rhonda when I was on a panel about Women in Bluegrass way back in 2003. Ed and I exchanged emails about his quote, that event, and his prodigious memory and from then on have been, ahem, bosom buddies! Ed is a wonderful writer, so check out the article. It’s still online!

NOTE: In case you read the article: No matter what I said back then (and I think I was just popping off without thinking, trying to be funny) I totally support Rhonda Vincent’s attire and her music!

Murphy HenryEllen, guitar student, photographer, and one of my current Misfits, had been kind enough to let me post an “almost song” she has written. She’s still working on the melody, so right now it’s still in the form of a poem. Her husband, Mark, is also a banjo student and Misfit, which is why the poem/song is about playing banjo and not guitar. (Besides, you wouldn’t get that great alliteration—all those “b” sounds—if it was about the guitar!)

Thanks, Ellen!

Beginning Banjo Blues

And there you have it.
Well, so you say,
But my fingers and my brain
Are going separate ways.

I had it last night
But today it’s gone,
Can’t get it back.
Better move along.

[bridge]
Time for a cold one,
Or maybe two.
Threw back a few beers,
And now I’m stewed.

Feelin’ better now
Riff is workin’ fine
Needed my Corona
To get me back in line.

And now I have it,
I’m pickin’ well,
Foggy Mountain Breakdown
Is goin’ swell.