Scaring Crows
O all you little blackey tops,
Pray, don't you eat my father's crops,
While I lie down to take a nap.
Shua-O! Shua-O!
If father he perchance should come,
With his cocked hat and his long gun,
Then you must fly and I must run.
Shua-O! Shua-O!
Pray, don't you eat my father's crops,
While I lie down to take a nap.
Shua-O! Shua-O!
If father he perchance should come,
With his cocked hat and his long gun,
Then you must fly and I must run.
Shua-O! Shua-O!
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