To a Banjo-Blogger-Comedian Not Dying Young

To a Banjo-Blogger-Comedian Not Dying Young
(Craig Brandhorst, Heyward Wall, Scott Burgess...not sure whether Heyward and Scott helped or just sat nearby supportively)

The time you played that banjo thang
We decked you out in banjo blang;
Scott and Heyward cheering by, ...
And home we brung you shoulder-high.

Today, the road all strummers strum,
Shoulder-high we brung you hum,
And set you at your threshold down,
Funny plucker of Facebook town.
Smart lass, to slip betimes away
From stage where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has blurred
Still read to type, that’s right, we heard,
And plucking sounds no worse than cheers
Tis only wax that stopped the ears.
Now you’re left to swell the rout
Of lasses that wore their honours out,
Strummers whom renown outstram
Banjofied by a woman named Pam.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet thumb on the fret board shade,
And hold to the low tuning peg,
While you read this bullshit wrote by Craig.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze, “She is not dead!”
And find she’s plucking urban-rural
A banjo louder than any girl’s.