So there he stands
All on his own
A barley field
He calls his home
On mud and stones
His legs do rest
He looks lonely
And not well-dressed
A threadbare coat
He wears with pride
Though bits of straw
Poke out the sides
And badly tied
A scarf of red
An old top hat
On top his head
In rain and wind
He's always there
A thankless task
For no-one cares
All day he stares
At passing crows
And rats that gnaw
At his straw toes
He guards barley
And crops of rye
From greedy crows
Out of the sky
As they flock by
To call him names
He scares them off
No times for games
He'd really like
Some company
A friendly face
Around for tea
He never sees
A friend to play
They just see him
And run away
One day he wakes
And hears a sound
Something rooted
In closeby ground
He looks around
And with a gasp
He eyes set on
A scarecrow lass!
A fine new coat
She wears with pride
And fresh cut straw
Is stuffed inside
And neatly tied
A scarf of red
A new top hat
On top her head
So there he stands
No more alone
A scarecrows lass
To call his own
And in their home
They gently sway
Together 'till
The End of Days
