It has a stubborn streak, the truth;
It does not bend to suit its time
Or cover up somebody’s crime.
Equivocation’s not its style.
Which makes it sad for the chancers
Who find the truth so hard to tell
And propagate their lies. Oh well,
Let them muddle through, for a while.
And those who enjoy pretending
Find that the truth gets in the way.
‘This should be clarified’, they say,
But truth survives when put on trial.
With its tendency to prevail,
The truth will out, the falsehoods fail.
