Screaming Scarecrows

 
Scarecrows speak a language that’s known for all to see
If you’re a flying crow you know, “Don’t mess around with me.”
I do not know how they sound, why or how this came to be
I only know it must be so, as you can see, the crows agree.
If you listen to my CD, of recorded scarecrow screams
It’ll chill your bloody bones, haunting midnight dreams  
Crows will seek their refuge in trees and wooded seams
Then come back to investigate, their initial fear it seems
Listening to the screaming scarecrow through my ears of corn,
A haunting sound that does surround, a message to forewarn.
Fearful crows seek higher ground to hide within the thorn,
Coming back to investigate the source of all their scorn.