There was a woman and she lived in her own
Slaved on her own and skivvied on her own
She had two little boys and two little girls
She lived all alone with her husband
He was a hunk if a man
A chunk of a man and a drunk of a man
A hunk of a drunken spunk of a man
Such a boozy bruising bully of a husband
When he came home drunk at night
He thrashed her black and he thrashed her white
Thrashed her to within an inch of her life
And snored all night like a pig her drunken husband
One night she gathered her tears all round her shame
Covered up the bruising cried with the pain
You'll not do that ever again
I'll not live anymore with a drunken husband
That night as he lay drunk in bed
The strangest thought came to her head
She took the needle and the thread
And went straight into her sleeping husband
She started to stitch with a girlish thrill
With a woman's eye and a seamstress skill
She bibbed and tucked with an iron will
As she stitched all around her sleeping husband
The top sheet and the bottom sheet too
The blanket stitched to the mattress through
She worked and stitched the whole night through
Waiting for the dawn and her husband
He awoke with a pain in his head
He found that he could not move in bed
Sweet God in heaven have I lost me legs
She just sat and smiled at her husband
In her hand she held the frying pan
With a flutter in her heart she flew at him
He could not move so he cried God Damn
Don't you swear at me you dirty husband
She beat him black and she beat him blue
With the frying pan and the colander too
With the rolling pin a stroke or two
Such a battered and a beaten husband
If you ever come home drunk again
I'll stitch you up and sew you in
Then I'll pack my bags and I'll be gone
I'll not live anymore with a drunken husband
Isn't it true what a wife can do
With a needle, thread and a stitch or two
He wiped his slate and his boozin is through
She don't live anymore with a drunken husband
