(F#m)Scare crow on a wood en cross, black bird in the barn,

four hun dred emp ty a cres that used to be my farm.

I grew up like my dad dy did, my Grand pa cleared this land.

and When I was five I walked the fence while Grand pa held my hand.

Rain on the scare crow, blood on the plow; this (D)land fed a na tion, this (E)land made me proud.

And son, I’m just sor ry there’s no (D)leg a cy for you now.

Rain on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.

Rain on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.

The crops we grew last sum mer were n’t e nough to pay the loans, could n’t buy the seed to plant this spring and the Farm ers Bank fore closed.

Called my old friend, Schep man, up to auc tion off the land; he said, “John, it’s just my job, and I hope you un der stand.” Hey, call ing it your job, ol’ hoss, sure don’t make it right, but if you want me to I’ll say a prayer for your soul to night.

And (D)Grand ma’s on the front porch swing with a (E)bi ble in her hand.

Some (D)times I hear her sing ing, “Take me (E)to the prom ised land.” When you take a way man’s dig ni ty, he can’t (D)work his fields and cows.

There’ll be blood on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.

Blood on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.

Well, there’s blood on the plow.

Rain on the scare crow, blood on the plow.

This (D)land fed a na tion, this (E)land made me proud, and son, I’m just sor ry they’re just (D)mem o ries for you now.

Rain on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.

Rain on the (A)scare (E)crow, blood on the plow.