Scarecrow Poem by Garry Stanton

We stand to the side, ‘tween
The groom and the bride
In the circle of breath

And the beasts of the woods
Shrink from townsfolk in hoods
As the Green Man speaks:

We sleep and we dream
But the longest of journeys
Is never as far as it seems
As we roll in the green

A scarecrow he sits
In the midst of the crop
His head scarred and torn

He gazes to me
With sightless cloth eyes
Then the scarecrow does rise

He speaks in a voice
Of long-killed crows
In barleycorn rows:

Something has gone
But what it is
It is hard to know
Something has died
I am loathe to deny
That the thing is gone

PIPES
GUITAR

We sleep and we dream
But the longest of journeys
Is never as far as it seems
As we roll in the green
As we roll in the green

I am but a scarecrow
With not much to show
Just a word with old Tod
Now and then

My entrails have dried
My brain it has died
My heart has dropped
Out of this place

She rests in cold ground
Dark eyes closed
And dreams of old crows
In barleycorn rows...

We meet at the place
Where the trees meet the lake
And lay him to rest
In his Sunday best...

As eternity waits
As eternity waits