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!