Banjo

I cover up my edge with masking tape.
I will not paint without my horsehair brush.
My throat is dry. Have I contracted thrush?
Yes, I could fly if I had the right cape.
You heard that Alexander was a grape?
This sort of thinking turns your brain to mush,
And when the man behind you whispers, "Hush!"
Think twice: are you or he in better shape?

This is not dancing, but a mass of tics.
If you were singing, that was grease I drank,
A moment after Mama's rowboat sank.
Put three more gin-soaked puppies in the mix
And spin around, waving four banjo picks.
I cover up my midriff with a plank.