Not to be confused with the Batman villain. Speaking of which, IF YOU DO NOT SEE THE DARK KNIGHT YOU HAVE NO SOUL.
THE SCARECROW
Alastair Skerman
Upon a field, when the sun was low,
Where corn would without question grow,
A man hung propped by bits of wood
And in makeshift hay and rags he stood.
A sewn up smile played across his face,
Eternally mocking the human race
In all its futility, pain and obsession.
In watching you learn a valuable lesson.
It had not darkened in the sky
When a traveller came, just walking by,
And stood right next to the man on wood.
He himself wore a dark black hood,
And with bone-white fingers held a scythe,
The style of which would end a life.
They stood together, like the start of a joke,
And just before night came, the man in robes spoke.
‘I am tired,’ he said, ‘Of all this life,
It makes me weary and full of strife.’
His voice was deep and filled with age,
His eyes glowing in their dark empty cave.
Tired of having a one-sided talk,
He decided to let the poor creature walk.
The ragged man looked up from his trance
And grinned at his company as his eyes they did dance.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ His stitched mouth began
And the man in robes formulated a plan.
‘How would you fancy,’ he calculatedly said,
‘Instead of scaring crows, doing my job instead?
There isn’t much pay and the hours are long
But it’s a good sense of duty and it won’t do you wrong.’
A deal was then struck on the top of that land,
And the scythe was passed from old hand to hand.
As the traveller left, disappearing to air,
The stitched man was cut free of despair.
The creation of man looked down on its father
And saw all the people that he would just rather
See hung on a post just like he had for years
And see how much they enjoyed shedding no tears.
He stood on the earth and looked at the sun.
‘At last I finally get to have fun.’
