Pickin on the ol banjo

I was pickin away on my old banjo
when my wife came in and said, "It's time to go."
I said "Darlin are ya talkin to me?
cause there's no place else I'd rather be.

Pickin takes away the stress of the day,
that is what I've always known.
I could pick till my fingers wear down to the bone
and even by myself I would never be alone.

I pick sometimes in the evening, sometimes in the middle of the night.
It don't matter when I'm pickin, it makes the wrong all right.
If I'm rich or poor it don't matter, the banjo just don't care.
It don't even matter to my ol banjo if I've lost all my hair.

The work day is long and I feel beat,
I'll play my banjo then I'll eat.
When I'm full I'll take a nap
With that banjo on my lap.

Since I have been a banjo picker
I've done most of my picking alone
That way when I'm playing
Folks won't moan and groan.

A lame attempt at poetry, by Bryan Dix, unless I eventually put it to music then it will be a lame attempt at writing a song. (: