Scarecrow Blues

Here she is sublime, and bang right on time,
my love, she squawks a greeting.
Look how she shines, this treasure of mine,
and now we have our meeting.
Perched on my arm, my heart is a charm.
My crow is come to see me!

Today her stay, I'm sorry to say,
cannot be for long.
The old man is about, his work to carry out.
His arms are big and strong.
His field to keep, the wheat he will reap.
My crow flies off to safety...

The leaves grow red, before they grow dead,
for Autumn is upon us.

A new day begun, fresh songs to be sung.
My love will be here soon.
The farmer's up too, the days have grown few.
His work will be my doom.
On my wooden bones, he hangs new clothes.
My crow won't recognise me.

Here she comes, the colour of plums,
shining in the light.
She sees me, not me to see,
and so is wracked by fright.
Goodbye, my crow, you were a joy to know.
And so begins my Winter.

Prosthetic hand illustration

Stay in touch @pleaseignore