When I was about fourteen I used to go out with complete dickheads-- blokes that thought they had a right to hit ya. Only I didn't realize, and one day a bloke called young Collet, punched me And I pulled him down by hair and I punched his fucking head in.
   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
   He found he could not move in bed
   "Sweet Christ I've lost the use of me legs!"
   Wife just smiled at her husband
   Three six nine, he drank wine
   He got hooked by a stitch in time
   She broke, he got choked and they never went to heaven in a little row boat
   Clap clap, clap clap
   Clap clap, clap clap
   My mother told me, if I was goodie
   That she would by me a loaded Uzi
   She thrashed him black, she thrashed him blue
   With a frying pan and a colander, too
   With 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
   Kick out the jams, motherfucker!