Pink Floyd

The black and green scarecrow, as ev'ryone knows,
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw ev'rywhere
He didn't care
He stood in a field where barley grows

His head did no thinking, his arms didn't move,
Except when the wind cut up rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows



The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me__
But now he's resigned to his fate's, 'cause life's not unkind
He doesn't mind
He stood in a field where barley grows