s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w

Out in the field
A young boy
Perched by the fence
Took into temptation
Taking a whole pumpkin
For his family
But before he could run
He became a scarecrow
With a plank down his back
That cruisified him
As his hair turned to straw
Hidden with an old brown cap
Half sewn button eyes
Half drawn happy smile
Nobody could deny it
He was a scarecrow