17. The lonely scarecrow

My poor old bones (I've only two):

A broomshank and a broken stave.

My ragged gloves are a disgrace.

My one peg-foot is in the grave.

I wear the labourer's old clothes:

Coat, shirt, and trousers all undone.

I bear my cross upon the hill

In rain and shine, in snow or sun.

I cannot help the way I look.

My funny hat is full of hay.

O wild birds, come and nest in me!

Why do you always fly away?

                                James Kirkup