It was in a little country church where we was congregated.
The preacher, he was on a roll
and had us captivated.

He said all men have weakness, of this we can agree.
If we would just confess our sins,
the truth would set us free.

Are there any here among us who can honestly declare
that they are near perfection,
are there any, anywhere?

From in the back a hand was raised by a rancher tan and old.
The preacher, he was caught off guard.
Could someone be that bold?

Are you saying that you’re perfect and you’ve never done no wrong?
Oh, I’ve done my share of cussin’
and I’ve done it all along.

I raised my hand in proxy, only perfect man I know,
has to be my wife’s first husband,
as she often tells me so.


© by Russ Westwood.
Used with the author’s permission.