Nora Brown

She bears the torch of ancient music
On the strings of her Gibson Steelhead
She’s so good, it might make me sick
Because no matter how hard I woodshed
I flail
Yet she frails
Oh Nora Oh Nora
A Southern Appalachian senora
Do not cry for me
For you come from Crown Heights, Brooklyn
With a banjo on your knee
Ladies and gentlemen
- Nora Brown

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