THE SCARECROW
The sagging scarecrow
Weeps in deep sorrow
In the pouring rain
That too late came.
Shrivelled crops in rows
A farmers heart heavy grows
As barns are bare, cattle sold
No sheep to place in the fold.
Life’s hard work perished
As the money diminished
Depression settles in the air
Does no one stop to care?
The sagging scarecrow
Weeps in deep sorrow
But the farmer must go on
Another years work must be done.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson December 5, 2002