The black and green scarecrow,
as everyone knows,
stood with a bird on his hat
and straw everywhere.
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
'cause life's not unkind.
He doesn't mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
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