Stitch That (Country & Western Version) - Chumbawamba



A husband came home drunk each night

And he thrashed her black and he thrashed her white

He thrashed her to within an inch of her life

Then he slept like a log, did her husband

One, two, three, four

A husband came home drunk each night

And he thrashed her black and he thrashed her white

He thrashed her to within an inch of her life

Then he slept like a log, did her husband

As he lay and snored in bed

A strange idea came into her head

She went for the needle and she went for the thread

And straight to her sleeping husband

She started to stitch with a girlish thrill

With a woman's art and a seamstress' skill

She pinned and tucked with an iron will

All around her sleeping husband

Husband awoke with a pain in his head

And found he could not move in bed

'Sweet Christ I've lost the use of me legs!'

Wife just smiled at her husband

Thrashed him black, she thrashed him blue

With a frying pan and a colander, too

A rolling pin just a stroke or two

A battered and bleeding husband

Isn't it true what small can do

With a thread and a stitch and a thought or two

He's wiped his slate, his boozing's through

Goodbye to a drunken husband

One, two, three, four



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