The Friendless and Lonely Scarecrow

Made of straw with no living soul,
Empty of pleasure, of love and of hope;
The scarecrow endures the heat and the cold
Without a friend or hand to hold.

There is no greater sorrow I know
Than that of the friendless and lonely scarecrow.

Hung and bound as crucified,
Never to live, never to die,
Far from a friend's compassionate eye,
The scarecrow waits, not knowing why.

There is no greater sorrow I know
Than that of the friendless and lonely scarecrow.

No ear to hear the chirping bird,
Nor eye to see this beauteous world.
No skin to feel the zephyr's swirl,
Nor nose to smell the fragrant rose.

There is no greater sorrow I know
Than that of the friendless and lonely scarecrow.

Some might covet this man of straw,
No sorrow to feel, no pain to gnaw;
Yet better to hurt than not feel at all
And miss the blessing of wherewithal.

There is no greater sorrow I know
Than that of the friendless and lonely scarecrow.

If I, one day, a scarecrow be-
Alone, forsaken, forever empty,
Untouched, unfeeling, unable to see,
Then let these words be said of me:

"There is no greater sorrow we know
Than that of the friendless and lonely scarecrow!"