The Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didn't care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didn't move except when the wind cut up
About his head and mice spun around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now he's resigned to his fate
'Cause life's not unkind - he doesn't mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.