Straw men shake hands in concrete fields,
Until the sleepless farmer yields,
To their demands for no more seeds,
No more furrows or benevolent deeds,
To help the corn and strawberries grow:
They’re too inviting to the crow,
Rook and raven, those clever birds,
Squawking to each other words,
That the straw men will never understand,
So they lay their law across the land,
Stuff their lifeless hearts with straw,
Their tiny minds with even more,
And dream of fields in no man’s land,
Because if they can’t have it, no-one can.