"Tis not for me to flaunt and boast
That I have never left my post."
The Scarecrow coughed,--a gentle hint,
For more of Freda's peppermint.
Then read how once a cruel blast
Had hurled him from his post at last.
And how Sir Hawk so swiftly flew
To summon twelve good crows and true.
And how, quite suddenly that day,
They every one were "scared" away.