I saw two little scarecrows glumly sitting on my wall
I asked ‘What are you doing here?’, they said ‘we’ve lost our ball’,
I said, ‘You’re very far from home, this city has no meadows’
They said ‘the birds they tricked us’; ‘they’re so mean those nasty crows’
We should be guarding farmers field, watching over all his crop
But then two crows they told us, to have a rest and stop
They let us kick their ball and said that they would guard
but then it got so windy and the ball blew out the yard
We couldn’t catch or pick the ball up, our arms are made of hay
and every time we got so close the ball just blew away
And then we saw the farmer, he was shooting at the crows
They had stolen all his crops and everything that grows
So we had no fun playing ball and the farmer had a crazy fit
Is it OK if we sit here a while, because we’re really in the shit.