The Mayor of Candor Lied Harry Chapin

In the little town of Candor, in the last year of my youth
I learned the final lesson of the levels to the truth
My father was a farmer; he'd go tilling in the ground
My mother was a neighbor; she'd go visiting around

But I didn't care
For I had found the answer to a plowboy's lonely prayer
She was the daughter of the Mayor

The Mayor fought my courtship, for he'd made other plans
He saw her married to a better man than a boy with farmer's hands
I said, "I hate your father, it's so hard not to strike him"
She said, "You know I love you because you're so much like him"

And so I'd go sneaking in the evening
And there she'd stand a-crying in the dawn as I was leaving

The Mayor of Candor lied
When he offered me his only daughter
The Mayor of Candor tried
To take her off across the water
What a thing to do to a young man in love
And what a thing to do to your daughter

One day with father on his tractor and mother off again
I go to find the mayor to work out what I can
But he is not at his office, he is not at his home
When I find him in the countryside he is not alone