‘Scarecrow’ – Artist Unknown
Even though writing, to me, is nearly always about composing lyrics, someone bet me that I couldn’t write a children’s story. Odd. All credit to writers. It’s not easy without a melody to hide behind. Whether this counts as one, I’m not sure. Anyway, I gave it a go. Here it is;
The scarecrow could neither dream, hear, walk, talk, dress himself, play guitar nor enjoy poached eggs, ice-cream, Cornish pasties or hot chocolate. He found it amazing that he could, on a good day, scare certain timid birds and most small children. The small children especially found they suffered from horrible nightmares after bumping into him in his field of corn. He regretted that but couldn’t do much about it.
The farmer had christened him Sir Heebie Jeebie, although no one called him by his name. He hated his name, hence he was pleased that most passers-by just called him ‘That stupid scarecrow’ – at least he thought that’s what they said – except the birds. Birds can’t speak, you see. He could age though. Not so much in years like regular humans do, more that over time he wilted a bit, then a bit more, until he passed away, his skeleton a crucifix of wooden sticks.
Like the rest of his clan, death mainly occurred as a rainy autumn turned into winter’s first storms. There’s not much call for a scarecrow once seeds have grown into green vegetables for small children to devour.
He’d always considered the farmer to be his father but had no idea who his mum might be. Heebie had come to the conclusion that his was a one-parent family.
What he didn’t know was that unlike all the other scarecrows in all the other fields in all the other countries of the world, he, ‘Sir Heebie Jeebie’ had an internal framework made, not of boring stereotypical wooden sticks, but one of plastic rods. As such, and providing his clothes didn’t rot away – clothes being very important for scarecrows for without them they wouldn’t be able to scare certain timid birds and most small children.
Summer was dying, the winds from the Arctic were trying their luck out due south of the ice cap. Heebie’s clothes had started to rot away, and his face was looking less scary by the day. The Grim Scarecrow Reaper would soon be on his case.
It was September 9th. when Miss Money Spider stumbled upon him. In truth, not so much stumbled, more that she bumped into him and knocked him over while on her Trials bike practicing for a tournament. After she had said, ‘Oh dear, oh deary me’ half a dozen times she got overwhelmed with guilt. She did say ‘sorry’ but a ‘sorry’ wasn’t any good as Heebie had no prospect of hearing her apology.
The thing was, the bike had ripped off all of his clothes. He was now nothing more than a crucifix of plastic rods.
Luckily for Heebie, Miss Money Spider took him home with her, dressed him up in a massive faux fur coat stuffed with straw, replacing his old head with a plastic football with a smiley face painted on and planted him in her front garden forevermore. Heebie had never been so happy. Although the birds, understandably mainly ignored him, the small children loved him. He was good with that and came to the conclusion that maybe plastic could be put to a good use rather than be dumped in the oceans killing all the fish and that Miss Money Spider was his mum. So what, another one-parent family. He didn’t care.
I haven’t got a Scarecrow Song in my portfolio of songs, although in my song ‘Ballerina Dancing’ I did mention one in the verse;
‘All I know is all I know, And all I know is real, Like a scarecrow on the gallows, It is no big deal’ – but that song doesn’t really fit this. So, leaving the subject matter behind, here’s an example from my new three hours album of Guitar Jams available on BANDCAMP called ‘Volume I Guitar Jam Backing Tracks’ tagged ‘Creativity On Tap’. This track is called ‘Gritty Groove – A Minor’. A backing track is a pillar upon which a song rests. Like any good pillar it should stand alone. I hope you enjoy;
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