Red Haired Marty
(To the tune of "Good Old Mountain Dew")

[1] Let the grasses grow and the breezes blow, in a free and easy way.
As we strum along to the kind of song, Martin Grinwald used to play.
From time to time, he'd sing a rhyme, and with his magic fingers,
he'd stand and croon as he cranked out the tune
on his trusty old five-stringer.

CHO: Di-da-diddle-didle dum, di-da-diddle doodle dee,
Di da diddlum doodulum day;
Di-da-diddle-didle dum, di-da-diddle doodle dee,
Di da diddlum doodulum day!

[2] He was just a tyke, when a guy named Mike let him hear a banjo ring,
and he bugged his Pa and he begged his Ma, to get him one of them things.
Then he learned three chords and a couple of rolls and some simple banjo licks
And before too long he was ripping along, trying lots of musical tricks.
CHO:

[3] It was Mr. Ed Ward, of the Irish Fest board, who got him up on stage,
with a verse or two of "Mountain Dew", at eleven years of age.
And the crowd it did plain flip its lid, when he played the banjo for us.
And you might not recall the verses all, but we all know this here chorus:
CHO:
[4] He was fairly small, when he started all of this musical outpouring,
but before too long, he was going strong, and the crowds, they started roaring.
Whether bluegrass picking or hard-rock kicking, you might as well admit it:
If there's ever a note any songster wrote, that red-haired boy could HIT it!
CHO:
[5] Well, it breaks the heart to hear the sad part, he was taken off by Fate.
And that leprechaun was too soon gone, up to a Higher State.
Now the heavenly clouds are full of crowds of saints who sure can party.
And they better play sharp, if they're strumming the harp, along with Red-haired Marty!
CHO: