There was a woman and she lived on her own Slaved on her own and she skivvied on her own She'd two little boys and two little girls She lived all alone with her husband
He was a hunk of a man A chunk of a man and a punk of a man A hunk of a drunken skunk of a man Such a boozy, bruising, bully of a husband
When he came home drunk at night He'd thrashed her black and 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 bruise and cried with the pain You'll not do that ever again I'll not live anymore with a drunken husband
And that night as he lay drunk in bed The strangest thought came to her head She took up the needle and the thread And went straight into her sleeping husband
She started to stitch with a girlish thrill A woman's eye and a seamstress' skill She bibbed and tucked with an iron will As she stitched all round her sleeping husband
The top sheet, the bottom sheet, too The blanket stitched to the mattress through She bibbed and tucked 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 he cried, "God damn Don't you swear at me ya drunken 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 repenting husband
"If you ever come home drunk again I'll stitch you up and I'll sew you in Then I'll pack my bag 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's sobered up and his boozin's through She don't live anymore with a drunken husbandTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
