Desperation Of Raggedy Anne & Andy Poem by Donald Chance

You spent a trillion dollars
to create a blade of grass
And you, and you have the nerve
to recoil at the very thought
to find a brain for me — oh my.

I don't mind you call me Scarecrow,
the name is fitting.
My clothes a bit tattered,
leaving a trail of straw,
And of course my speech is a bit ragged,
nonsensical at times —
But it's hot out here, guarding the corn by myself,
Just hanging around all day.

So what can we do? You can't - can't manage money, and I —
And I — and I — the little airbrain
keep losing thoughts through the holes in my stitching.
Oh, Please, please, please — stop singing
We're in the Money.

You're causing a ruckus which will bring the cops.
My disguise will only hold for a bit longer.

Oops — I think we're too late.
Can you hear the sirens?
Not the mermaids at the seaside
calling us, calling us —
It's the cops.
Coming for us, yes - us

don't you see?
You and me.

If you pull the strings that hold me together —
Pull them down, down — and that will be it.
Everything will fall apart, the wind will take the straw,
And I can escape, at least for a while.

And you, my friend — just keep quiet.
Dig a hole in the grass beside the field.
They will walk right past while you breathe through the roots.
They will never think to search the earth itself.