A farmer stuck me in his field
To scare off all the crows.
It’s lonesome here amongst the corn
As you might well suppose.
They dressed me like a human
But I’m only made of straw.
And all day long I hear the crows:
Caw-caw! Caw-caw! Caw-caw!
There’s no one I can talk to
For miles and miles around.
I cannot move my arms or legs:
I’m fastened to the ground.
As I stare at the horizon,
I protect their crops from harm.
The king of all that I survey:
The fields, the house, the barn.
But heavy is my burlap head—
My hat is not a crown.
I’m such a lonely scarecrow.
I wish you’d take me down.
I’d love to play a game of tag
And run through rows of corn!
Instead of being stuck up here
So lonesome and forlorn.