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.

Illustrated by Dick Brown and Shauna Mooney