A long time ago
In a land far away,
there was a missionary, who in a special way,
had a guitar that he liked to play.
He played the guitar night and day,
if he could find a way,
to find the time and play.
This guitar was a gift,
left from his trainer,
although it was really more of a plainer
sort of hand-me down.
He worked on the chords,
(his trainer left books),
and played better than he looks
like he could do.
He ended up in a sort of bind,
for, though he could play the guitar blind,
he was crazy out of his mind,
until he could find
of technique divined
from his music theory background that he knew so well.
He now plays with fingerpicking
(since this week)