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Held him up when he was drunk
and hugged him when he cried.
Although she’d grown to hate him,
her wedding vows employed.
She praised his dim opinions,
the lies he would unfold.
Ignored what he had stolen,
replacing what he sold.
Stood the many moods he’d swing,
held whist when he complained.
Shouldered all his alibis
when he was rightly blamed.
When fired up, she’d let him burn
and wait ’till he’d atone.
When all had abandoned him,
was there to take him home.
Watched him in his foolishness
and caught him when he fell.
As if she from heaven sent
when pulled him out of hell.
Exhausted from his failures,
she made his weary bed.
Her lap, his loving pillow
where laid his sorry head.
His queen when of no kingdom,
his all when he without.
His saviour when defeated,
his hope when he in doubt.
Her days, to keep him sated,
her nights, to please the brute.
Pretending satisfaction,
he’d snap if knew the truth.
When sought the church for guidance,
“To wed, is one to slave?”
“Offer up your miseries;
be brave, my child, be brave.”
Screamed when felt his leather belt,
when kicked and called, a whore.
Wailing in her agonies,
to bleed out on the floor.
Where now’s the bitch to serve him,
to be at his behest?
Foul mouthing at her tombstone,
but she, at last at rest.
“Her battered flesh, her penance;
her sufferings for Christ.”
And so, preached the parish priest,
as if she sacrificed.
and hugged him when he cried.
Although she’d grown to hate him,
her wedding vows employed.
She praised his dim opinions,
the lies he would unfold.
Ignored what he had stolen,
replacing what he sold.
Stood the many moods he’d swing,
held whist when he complained.
Shouldered all his alibis
when he was rightly blamed.
When fired up, she’d let him burn
and wait ’till he’d atone.
When all had abandoned him,
was there to take him home.
Watched him in his foolishness
and caught him when he fell.
As if she from heaven sent
when pulled him out of hell.
Exhausted from his failures,
she made his weary bed.
Her lap, his loving pillow
where laid his sorry head.
His queen when of no kingdom,
his all when he without.
His saviour when defeated,
his hope when he in doubt.
Her days, to keep him sated,
her nights, to please the brute.
Pretending satisfaction,
he’d snap if knew the truth.
When sought the church for guidance,
“To wed, is one to slave?”
“Offer up your miseries;
be brave, my child, be brave.”
Screamed when felt his leather belt,
when kicked and called, a whore.
Wailing in her agonies,
to bleed out on the floor.
Where now’s the bitch to serve him,
to be at his behest?
Foul mouthing at her tombstone,
but she, at last at rest.
“Her battered flesh, her penance;
her sufferings for Christ.”
And so, preached the parish priest,
as if she sacrificed.
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