The Sabre Waving Saracen Wall

Scarecrows and I worked on the field but in the long run naught.
It was haught my mind travelled back one dark road I sought.
I recall on the day when I was wa?? over with fear,
it first touched me in falling off a fence waving for dirt in midair,
but the corn eating birds bane for my flying a laugh no doubt.
So I think back to Turks and Sabres that were thick
with bracelets and muscles and grips huge of thumb and Sabres.
The swing of arms made me run to the gurvey,
where I hid for the entire day.
Thusly, a wall I made that holds paper Turk arms
and sabres scaring birds blood to freeze.
But the wind wound around and blew into the ground,
the papter not holding against the breeze.
So I send over for the corpses of Saracens
preserved in fine oils and smokes,
each fitted with a sabre in hand
to have fear drop in and soak.
The wind yells up and down and blows out candles and sings.
It will push the wall of arms around the truck making arms swing.
Fight that day out and away and behind the crows menace
they leave were buzzards who wouldn't touch plants, but certainly tore at Saracen meat.