| Lyrics: | A Stitch in Time
Oh there was a woman and she lived on her own,
She slaved on her own and
she skivvied on her own,
She'd two little girls and two little boys --
And she lived all
alone with her husband.
For her husband he was a hunk of a man
A chunk of a man and a drunk
of a man,
He was a hunk of a drunk and a skunk of a man
Such a boozing, bruising
husband.
For he would come home drunk each night,
He thrashed her black, he thrashed her
white;
He thrashed her, too, within an inch of her life,
Then he slept like a log, did her
husband.
One night she gathered her tears all round her shame
She thought of the bruising
and cried with the pain,
Oh, you'll not do that ever again,
I won't live with a drunken
husband.
But as he lay and snored in bed,
A strange old thought came into her head,
She
went for the needle, went for the thread,
And went straight in to her sleeping husband.
And
she started to stitch with a girlish thrill
With a woman's heart and a seamstress'
skill,
She bibbed and tucked with an iron will,
All around her sleeping husband.
Oh, the
top sheet, the bottom sheet, too,
The blanket stitched to the mattress through,
She stitched
and stitched for the whole night through
Then she waited for the dawn and her husband.
And
when her husband woke with a pain in his head,
He found that he could not move in bed,
Sweet
Christ, I've lost the use of me legs!
But this wife just smiled at her husband.
For in her
hand she held the frying pan
With a flutter in her heart she given him a lam;
He could not
move but he cried, ``God damn!''
``Don't you swear,'' she cried to her husband.
Then she
thrashed him black, she thrashed him blue,
With the frying pan and the colander t |
