Out in the cornfield,                                          standing all alone,                                 a torn and tattered scarecrow,                                         sad without a home.                                    Through the summer heat                                         and the chill of fall,                               all day long and through the night,                                       scarecrow’s seen it all.                                         In the wind and rain,                                         in the autumn frost,                                     trying to keep crows away                                           or the crop is lost.                                           What a lonely job,                                        dressed in his old rags;                                   stuffed all full of itchy straw                                            in a suit that sags.                                           Wish I could invite                                        Mister Scarecrow home,                                     make him warm, comfortable                                              so he’s not alone.   Author Notes Seasons/Nature image by perchance.org

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