Scarecrow Song by Terry Gilkyson, copyright 1963 Wonderland Music Co.
On the southern coast of England there's a legend people tell,
Of days long ago when the great Scarecrow would ride from the jaws of hell,
And laugh with a fiendish yell,
With his clothes all torn and tattered,
Through the black of night he'd ride
From the marsh to the coast like a demon ghost,
He'd rob the rich then hide,
And he'd laugh till he split his side
Scarecrow! Scarecrow! The soldiers of the king feared his name.
Scarecrow! Scarecrow! The country folk all loved him just the same.
He would always help the farmer when there was no gold to bring,
He'd find a way for the poor to pay the taxes of the king,
With gold from a smugglers ring.
So the king told all his soldiers
"Hang him high or hang him low,
But never return till the day I learn
He rides in the flames below
Or you'll hang with the great scarecrow"