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