Banjos (day twenty one)

Here is a poem for day twenty one of national poetry month in the USA. 

Banjos

They sit around
my study like hillbillies.
Nothing to do, happy to wait.

They do occasionally ask
in a Piedmont drawl,
when is the red HAYyed boy coming?

Or cotton-eyed Joe?
Billy in the low ground?
What ’bout backstep Cindy?
She’s a good-un.

If you buy a banjo–
better prepare for company
that never leaves.

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