THE SCARECROW
A scarecrow stood in a field one day,
Stuffed with straw,
Stuffed with hay;
He watched the folk on the king's highway,
But never a word said he.
Much he saw, but naught did heed,
Knowing not night,
Knowing not day,
For having naught, did nothing need,
And never a word said he.
A little grey mouse had made its nest,
Oh, so wee,
Oh, so grey,
In a sleeve of a coat that was poor Tom's best,
But the scarecrow, naught said he.
His hat was the home of a small jenny wren,
Ever so sweet,
Ever so gay;
A squirrel had put by his fear of men
And kissed him, but naught heeded he.
Ragged old man, I love him well,
Stuffed with straw,
Stuffed with hay;
Many's the tale that he could tell,
But never a word says he.
—MICHAEL FRANKLIN