THE SCARECROW
In the midst of a field a proud vagabond stood, And stretched both his arms to heaven; He spoke little ill, and he spoke little good, And he worked every day of the seven.
What mattered the holes in his tatter'd old tweeds? (Hte hat was the merest sensation). He was mounted on guard over thousands of seeds, And felt he was lord of Creation!
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THD19390114.2.101.4
Bibliographic details
Timaru Herald, Volume CXLVI, Issue 21244, 14 January 1939, Page 1 (Supplement)
Word Count
67THE SCARECROW Timaru Herald, Volume CXLVI, Issue 21244, 14 January 1939, Page 1 (Supplement)
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