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The Lonely Scarecrow My poor old bones---I've only two-- A broom shank 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 a hill In rain and shine, in snow and 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?