Truth by Curly The race was gittin hot as fire, so hustlin out the vote, Politicians rode a country bus to townships most remote, Where standing in the city square atop a stone or stump, They touted all their partys fare, called the other guy a chump. Promoting all the party lines, which spread like fresh manure, They called each other criminals. Course they themselves was pure, So one day as they was traveling, they crossed a railroad track, And a speeding train came barreling down and gave the bus a whack. The bus went tumbling terrible, landed burning and in shreds, A farmer investigated, and there was lots of dead, Out there so far, twas most remote, there wasnt no physicians, So the farmer dug a giant hole and buried all them politicians. The sheriff drove his raiglar route, and there he seen the wreck, So he stopped and asked the farmer, who splained how he had checked, Then hed buried all the bodies, which seemed to him polite. What if some was still alive? Howd you know that you was right? Well, I asked em all, the farmer said, every single one. Nobody answered? the sheriff asked, So you knowed that they was done? Well, some of em said they wasnt dead, the farmers grin was wry, But I knowed better, so I buried em. You know them politicians lie.