The Scarecrow Tomb

As the farmer is stuffing his scarecrow with fresh new straw
He cut his finger on a rusted nail
His blood oozed into the creature's tattered flesh
Then the wind began to blow violently
The cornfields swayed nervously
That night, the farmer died
The next day he found himself nailed to a wooden pole
In the center of the cornfield
He tried to scream
But his mouth was sewn shut with yеllow yarn
Crows pecked at his face, and drank thе tears from his weeping eyes