[ Creepfest ] The Legend Of Johnny Scarecrow

          
Minding his own business          
John Brown found himself staring down          
the business end of a sawed off shotgun          
         
A potato sack drawn over his head          
---didn't know where he was taken---          
never even had a chance to run          
         
Hung from a cross with his own belt;          
at his feet stripped bare of shoes          
fire set to methodically stacked wood          
         
In the Autumn chill of twilight's veil          
as his flesh burned and melt away         
screams came from the makeshift hood          
         
His remains were discovered the day after          
by children on a shortcut through the corn          
Suddenly cut short was their laughter;          
they had never seen a dead body before            
and here it was when        
        
the legend of Johnny Scarecrow was born          
         
Minister Wilkins said a prayer          
Widowed Ida Brown shed many a tear crying,        
Black folk shouldn't have to die this way!          
         
Sheriff Anderson knelt at the crime scene          
whispering into the victim's charred ear,          
The law will make those sons-of-bitches dearly pay!          
         
Wilkins somberly closed the leather bound Bible          
his only earthbound treasure          
saying,          
Leave it to the Lord to deliver justice               
for they will know the mighty hand of God          
and burn as John did in His displeasure          
If I promise anything, I promise you this          
         
Onward into evening          
sundown marked another wooden cross          
being firmly planted in the ground          
         
Figures in white garb gathered          
in celebration of one less black man          
living in their town          
         
And the Klan mocked        
the memory of John Brown          
         
They lit the cross, laughed          
and danced around the flames          
shouting with great pride,          
White Power!          
         
That's when a lone figure          
suddenly appeared to the mass          
and Johnny Scarecrow slew them all          
in the midnight hour          
         
Razor sharp sickle in hand          
borrowed from Farmer Parker's shed          
he decapitated their pointy hooded heads    
left and right          
         
As they scattered like rats through the corn          
this demon with a potato sack on its head          
killed them all one by one in a single night          
         
---slaughtered them in a fury of vengeance          
as they ran panic stricken for their lives          
not even with the tiniest sliver of remorse          
         
They shot him with their guns once or twice          
even stabbed him with their knives;          
at some point he was trampled by a horse          
         
The----            
That's not how the story goes!          
Little Billy Fitzimmons angrily groaned          
Campfire glow illuminating his friends' faces          
         
He was saying, Everyone knows---          
when something in the woods behind them moaned          
sending the children running home at breakneck paces          
         
And the legend of Johnny Scarecrow grew          
around many more campfires throughout the years          
handed down from one generation to the next of kin          
         
Who killed those Klansmen?  No one knew          
Youngsters speculated among their peers          
 
while one man lived onward with that sin          
         
Years later on his deathbed          
Tom Anderson asked Minister Wilkins          
to be present for his final confession          
         
Before he uttered a single word          
just then life fled his body          
Wilkins sighed --- said a final,        
Amen          
         
Clenched in the Sheriff's hand        
         
---a bloodstained potato sack---          
         
evidence    
disappeared from the investigation      
never to be found;    
same as the sickle          
now hanging in Wilkin's barn          
         
The hand of God was something to be feared;          
Justice delivered just as promised          
           
and that's how the legend of Johnny Scarecrow          
became another yarn