The Scarecrow

The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didn't care.

He stood in a field where barley grows.

His head did no thinking
His arms didn't move except when the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground.

He stood in a field where barley grows.

The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now he's resigned to his fate
'Cause life's not unkind - he doesn't mind.

He stood in a field where barley grows.

Can anyone help?