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The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows,
Stood with a bird on his hat, and straw every where
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...