Benjamin Scheuer and Escapist Papers cookie tin banjo

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My father has an old guitar and he plays me folk songs
My father has an old guitar and he plays me folk songs
There is nothing I want more than to play like him
He goes to the basement and builds me a cookie-tin banjo
He builds me a cookie-tin banjo
the strings are made of rubber bands
The strap is an old red neck tie
the body is the big round lid of a metal cookie-tin
When he plays his old guitar I play my cookie-tin banjo
I play my cookie-tin banjo right along with him
The more we play together the more I fall in love with music
And I realize that my banjo is a toy that I've outgrown
I want strings of steel and something new and something real
So he gets me a guitar to call my own
Then dad says to me on this fine afternoon
Let's sit on the stairs, I'll teach you a tune
He hands me a pick, one that's little and black
He shows me the g chord, I've never looked back
Now buried somewhere in a closet is my cookie-tin banjo
In my arms is my guitar, my greatest source of joy
For the life that I have now I'm grateful to my father
He gave the gift of music to his boy
It started with a simple homemade toy

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