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 then the wind cut up Rough and mice ran 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.