Out in the field when the first has been born

Folks sing a song, song of the corn

Late in the day when the secrets are sworn

Folks tell a tale, tale of the corn

I heard a commotion one late afternoon

Someone was singing a funeral tune

As I lay watching them hoist up the cross

Something was burning, something was lost

Could you believe what the scarecrow had seen?

Folks come to fall down to their knees

Rumours of strangers been buried alive

Black bats and barnyards, chills at my spine