I live on your farm
I live in your house
Left my deck on Hwy 62
Left my furniture, left my horses
Moved in with you & your kids
Kid you not, something I said
I’d never do

I’m most useful
As a grisly scare crow
As an occasional Paul Revere
For city folk come to your shop
Or a hand in the garden
When my back’s not out

Too old to run away
I sit at the secretary and scratch
My shoulder blade with a butter knife.
I hear a great dragon
In the ceiling above, some creature
Whose stature is more than rodent,
Bring home his prey and
Making his bed.  I pray to St. George,
Think of renting a flame thrower