My father's old scarecrow once stood in the corn,
An old-fashioned scarecrow, absurd an' furlorn.
Its legs were but bean poles; its body wus straw;
The wu'st lookin' scarecrow that ever I saw.
My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
Its featur's were saller; its aspect wus wild;
Its eyes never slumbered; its lips never smiled;
It frightened the hosses, far more than the crows,
That sat on its shoulders an' pecked at its nose.
My father's old scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
My father's old scarecrow hez gone to decay,
A tramp took its trowse's an' wore 'em away.
Yet of'en, in fancy, I see in the corn,
That ragged old scarecrow, absurd an' furlorn.
My father's old, scarecrow, his old-fashioned scarecrow,
His ragged old scarecrow, that stood in the corn.
