The Watchman

I see the scarecrow on the farm

He has nowhere else now to go

None dare ask him what he may know

Such weight hangs on each outstretched arm

Possessing enigmatic charm

What stories can this watchman tell

And can his black eyes cast a spell

Will Jack Flash steal a soul tonight

As wind and rain wreak wrath and spite

In the distance I hear a bell

This week Ronovan’s word is ‘Go’ .

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