Corny, the Scarecrow

Corny, the scarecrow, Was a fun and playful soul, Stuffed with corn shucks, And anchored to a long pole. Corny, the scarecrow, Is a creepy, daunting sort, Made of last year’s crops, Bathed in morning’s dewdrops, He’s never had an escort. There must have been some wonderful In those overhauls he’s wearing, Because when he put them on his form, No other scarecrow was worth comparing. Oh, Corny, the scarecrow, Was as scary as he could be, Blowing in the winds and rain, His straw body would not complain, Despite the gales he could foresee. Corny, frightening as he could be, Tortured birds with his shadow, Feeling alive, just like you and me, He waved from the setting rainbow. Oh, Corny, the scarecrow, Knew he might blow away, But despite what the wind told him, He continued to swirl and sway. Down to the pasture, With a pitchfork in his hand, He danced and danced, His life – he chanced, Sayin’ “my hay! Catch a strand!” He hurried to the horses, Asked the cows for milk, Only listening in silence… As they pulled off a cornsilk. Hmm, Corny, the scarecrow, Had to go back to the cornfield, Where he reassured the farmer, He’ll scare the birds like a shield. Dancing fast, with a pleasant twist, He scurries back to his place, There in the field, defending the crops, From all the crows those stalks must face!