A Stitch in Time Christy Moore

There was a woman and she lived on her own
Slaved on her own and 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 drunk of a man
A hunk of a drunken skunk of a man
Such a boozy, bruising, bully of a husband

For when he'd come home drunk at night
He'd thrash her black and thrash her white;
Thrashed her to within an inch of her life
And snored all night like a big 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 drunk of a husband

And 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 in to 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
A she stitched all round her sleeping husband