A Stitch In Time

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 husband