Martin Carthy - A Stitch in Time

or he would come home drunk each night;
He thrashed her black and 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."