A farmer and a teacher,
A hooker and a preacher.
Riding on a midnight bus,
bound for Mexico.
One was heading for vacation,
One for higher education,
and two of them were searching for lost souls.
That driver never ever saw the stop sign,
And eighteen wheelers can’t stop on a dime.
Chorus:
There are three wooden crosses,
On the right side of the highway.
Why theres not four of them,
Heaven only knows.
I guess its not what you take,
When you leave this world behind you.
Its what you leave behind you when you go.
That farmer left the harvest,
A home in 80 acres.
Faith and love for growing 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 them all a better start.
And that preacher wispered,
Can’t you see the promised land?
As he land his blood stained bible,
In that hooker’s hand.
Chorus
Thats the story our preacher told last sunday,
As he held that blood stained bible up.
For all of us to see.
He siad bless the farmer,and the teacher,and the preacher,
Who gave this bible to my momma,
Who read it to me
There are three wooden crosses,
On the right side of the highway.
Why theres not four of them,
Now I guess we know.
Its not what you take,
When you leave this world behind you,
Its what you leave behind when you go.
There are three wooden crosses,
On the right side of the highway.