We have an old scarecrow,
A guard in our yard;
He stands like a soldier
And stares very hard.
He never can holler
Or act bold and mean,
So our whole garden
Is one big bird-scene.
So I am the scarecrow
For part of the day.
I gallop and yell,
“Now you birds go away!”
They scatter and fly
As if they must know
That they help me pretend
I’m a mean old scarecrow.

[illustration] Illustrated by Dick Brown and Shauna Mooney