The Scarecrow

This lonely life of the scarecrow man, Rewards are few, but I do what I can, I’m losing straw, where I’ve lost a stich, Me arms are aching and me nose does itch, The cold, cold snow gives me frostbite, The hours are long, and it’s lonely at night, The heavy rain soaks me to the straw, While the noisy crows just caw, caw, caw, Not much to do but count the corn, Sometimes I feel that life’s forlorn, Me clothes all tatty and I look a slob, But at least I’m lucky; I’ve got a job!