Three Wooden Crosses

A farmer and a teacher, a hooker and a preacher,

Ridin' on a midnight bus bound for Mexico

One was headed for vacation, one for higher education,

And two of them were searchin' for lost souls

That driver never ever saw the stop sign

An' eighteen wheelers can't stop on a dime

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,

Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows

I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It's what you leave behind you when you go

That farmer left a harvest, a home and eighty acres,

The faith an' love for growin' things in his young son's heart

And that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children:

Did her best to give 'em all a better start

An' that preacher whispered: "Can't you see the Promised Land?"

As he laid his blood-stained bible in that hooker's hand

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,

Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows

I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It's what you leave behind you when you go

That's the story that our preacher told last Sunday.

As he held that blood-stained bible up, for all of us to see

He said: "Bless the farmer, and the teacher, an' that preacher;

"Who gave this Bible to my mamma, who read it to me."

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,

Why there's not four of them, now I guess we know

It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It's what you leave behind you when you go

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway