The Woman Upstairs

She had a chalk-white face and dandelion hair
T'was a wisp of a woman who lived in the tenement upstairs
Where the walls were so thin
You could hear her bleedin'

He was mountain of a man that stunk o' Brewdog ale
With a fist he swung like a curved-claw hammer on a nail
With all of his might
Most every night

Then it came one day on a cold day in July
A time to choose to either live or die
Like a low-hung fruit sprung from the Tree of Life
Yeah the moment had arrived

As he wrapped his hands around her throat
Before the kitchen lights went dark
She took hold of the butcher knife
And she drove it into his heart

She drove it into his heart

Soon the police came and they laid her in cuffs
Threw her in the back of a black and white and sure enough
They locked her away
And there she would stay

Until such time her case was assigned
To a public defender who had ten other trials on his mind
Thus the verdict was in
Before a word was spoken

So it came one day on a cold day in July
A time to choose to either live or die
Like a low-hung fruit sprung from the Tree of Life
Yeah the moment had arrived

As I heard her shout, "No way, no how!
No more blood and tears will I shed!"
And then there came that terrible silence
And that mountain of a man was dead

And that mountain of a man was dead

She weren't no newsworthy face, no lady fair
Just a hard-luck woman livin' in the tenement upstairs
Who by a jury of her peers
Got twenty-five years