Son of a Preacher I was a preacher’s son, and when my father would visit .I would go along, when they gathered round the table to sing and pray, that’s when Martha and I would go walking, Down to the duck pound and all through the woods, and then I’d stop and look into her eyes, Lord knows a did try to be good… but she wanted me to me teach her, I Was the preachers son. Being good isn’t always easy, and being a preacher’s son, I wanted to be good, but no matter how hard I tried. When that sweet farm girl looked at me with her big round eyes and ask me to teacher her in that cute way farm gir