This is the old Story
And it is not of glory,
Once there was weird man
Brown, big, yellowish and tan.
This man was a scarecrow
And he had no eyebrows,
He always did smile
And People thought that "He was vile".
He was not so deary
Torn and dirty clothes he was weary,
He always looked so scary
No one wanted him neary
He had a pumpkin head
Oh, that big head always rolled,
He almost got old and dead
And He had bushy hands
That no one wanted to hold
The scarecrow was one and only
The scarecrow was always lonely,
Now there was nothing he could do
So whenever he saw the crow,he always said "Booo".
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