Shoo'n them Blackbirds,
Starlings and Crows;
Chase'n 'way Bluejays,
Let'n corn grow.

Dressed-up in old clothes,
Chest full of straw;
Tattered hat on its head,
Fastened not to fall.

Stand'n high on a post,
Ever on alert;
Keep'n critters from the field,
Threaten'n to hurt.

How to make a scarecrow,
Ain't so very tough;
Just get ya-self some old clothes,
And fill 'em full of stuff!

Them dad-gum fast-talkers,
Act'n like they play'n;
Keep'n people so confused,
Wonder'n what they say'n.

Whether they be twenty-five,
Or even if they thirty;
Somethin' 'bout 'em is for sure,
They be awfully wordy.

How to be a fast-talker,
This is what ya do;
No matter really what ya say,
Just finish 'fore ya thru!

Stomp'n them big clods,
Bust'n them little;
Mash'n them dirt clods,
In they middle.

Look at them clod-busters,
Have'n lots of fun;
Kick'n ever dirty clod,
Stomp'n on the run.

How to be a clod-buster,
Fix'n fields to sow;
Just find ya-self a dirt clod,
And bust it with ya toe!

Them Country Mamas

Raised-on up them young-uns good,
Share'n love and dreams;
Stood right by her man of years,
A team they were it seems.

How 'bout them country mamas
Bake'n daily bread;
Always there to welcome home,
She's the bind'n thread.

Fresh hot coffee on the stove,
Share'n the latest news;
Keep'n all her kids in touch,
A smile that chases blues.

How to be a country mama,
And always show the way;
Even when the skies grow cloudy,
Be there to shine your ray.